


Diabolic Tome

by Flanders (Jor)



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Gen, Interactive, Interactive Fiction, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 37,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jor/pseuds/Flanders
Summary: A Choose Your Own Adventure in which you assume the role of an otherworldly demon in 16 century Europe. Your mission is simple: assist a group of vampire hunters in destroying a powerful and infamous vampire known as "the Scarlet Devil." Interactive functions are hosted on another site, but no registration is required to participate.





	1. Demon

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally hosted [here](https://www.thp.moe/others/res/60957.html), on thp.moe, a Touhou CYOA/fanfic site. Updates are cross-posted on here and on thp.moe at the same time.
> 
>  **This story is interactive!** Readers can vote between entries on the protagonist's next action. Voting will be held on the thp.moe version, which will be linked to at the bottom of the latest chapter. Votes will _only_ be counted for the latest chapter, as previous chapters have already had their votes closed.

You are a demon.

Your job is to heed to the call of humans who require favours or tasks to be completed. The craft of summoning creatures such as you and binding them to contracts is known as **diabolism**. Likewise, those who practice the craft are called **diabolists**. As a demon, once you have been summoned into the human world, you are unable to leave until you finish your master’s terms or die in the process.  

Presently, your consciousness is manifesting in the human world. A diabolist stands over his summoning circle, reciting the incantations to anchor you to his world. A human corpse lies on the ground in front of him in the center of a hexagram. He recites from the large leather-bound book in his hands for at least ten minutes. The words are familiar to you; it is an ancient spell in a nearly forgotten language. His words will grant you the ability to do things in this world. In diabolism, the list of abilities you are granted are known as **permissions**. Without these incantations, you would be unable to breathe the air or to move through physical space. Experienced diabolists can add or remove words from the spell, modifying what you are allowed to do. In this case, the human’s ritual does not seem to be very advanced. His list of permissions are very textbook-standard – you’re allowed to walk, talk, apply force to matter, use magic, and so forth. You’re glad you will have the standard range of freedom this time around.

Soon the incantation is complete, and your essence enters the vessel set before you. You rise to your feet, but you are unable to go far. Your movements are confined only to the summoning circle beneath your feet. You circle around, taking in the empty room around you. The diabolist interrupts your thoughts with a feeble “H-hey!” and immediately you turn, fixing him with a neutral stare. He’s barely more than a boy, you realize. You’d place him for 17 or 18 years old – an impressive age to be able to successfully summon a demon.

“I, Caesar, have summoned you,” he says. You can tell from how he is speaking that he’s trying to sound commanding or intimidating, but his nervous fidgeting gives away his true feelings. “As scribed by the old laws of your kind, demon, I command you to complete the following task: assist me and my team in destroying a powerful adversary. My terms are as follows.” The boy pauses, producing a piece of paper from his pocket. “One; you may not kill anybody unless I give you explicit permission. Two; you may not inflict any pain on the bodies of myself or my companions. Three; before any other task, your first priority is to protect me from any person, animal, or thing that intends me harm. Four; if I command you to do something by name, you must do it. Now, er, I trust that this vessel is satisfactory?”

When you are summoned to the human world, you do not possess a body. A diabolist is required to prepare a **vessel** in advance for you to inhabit. Vessels are almost always fresh corpses. The demon can take control of the offered corpse, reigniting a flame of life in it – but it is the demon’s own essence rather than that of the corpse’s original soul.

“If you would be so kind,” you say, gesturing to a body mirror in the corner of the room. (The mirror is one of the few furnishings in here besides a single wooden chair.) He ambles over to it and sets it up in front of you.

Your vessel appears to be in her early twenties. You stretch and move in all sorts of ways, testing the limits of your new body and examining each and every inch of it. It is pale and delicate in appearance; there are no scars, bruises, blemishes, or otherwise noteworthy marks. You nod approvingly.

“Excellent!” he says, throwing a fist into the air triumphantly. “But, uh, are my terms acceptable?”

“Indeed. I swear to complete the task you have commanded of me while upholding the terms you have given. **Let it be recorded that we are in a pact, until either the task is successfully completed, or one of us perishes**.”

A binding rune appears on the back of yours and his right hand, signifying that the two of you are bound by contract. You step outside of the summoning circle, now free to move about in the human world.

“Now—”

“I need clothes,” you interject. “It’s chilly in here.”

He blinks in surprise. “Demons... get cold?”

“What kind of question is that? Surely you have something for me to wear.”

He nods, leaving the room for a few moments. Several minutes later, he returns with a simple red dress, boots, and undergarments. You dress quickly.

“Alright,” Caesar says, clapping his hands together impatiently. “I’d like to introduce you to the rest of the team, and then we can get started on our mission. But before all of that, I’d like to take a few minutes to answer some questions you may have.”

> [x] Ask questions.


	2. Caesar's Q&A

“What is our enemy?”  
  
Caesar takes a deep breath. “My team and I are vampire hunters. Our enemy is a vampire named Remilia Scarlet. As far as we can tell, she lives alone in a castle near a town that she frequently terrorizes.” His expression hardens and he shakes his head solemnly. “Those poor townsfolk treat her as some sort of god, even offering up their own as tributes. Remilia Scarlet is no ordinary vampire – she is incredibly powerful. People from around the continent have sought out to destroy her. The vampire hunter who successfully slays her will, no doubt, becomes infamous.”  
  
A wry smile crosses over his face. “That’s why we’re here. My team and I are the best of the best, I assure you. And with a demon like you at our side, I have no doubts that we can defeat Remilia Scarlet.”  
  
You are a bit chilled by his smile. It’s the smile of a killer. You’ve seen it many times before in the eyes of other diabolists. You have always been unsure if those were the type of people that the craft appealed to, or that the craft corrupted those who dabbled in it. Whichever the case, it was not your concern. As a servant of humanity, you have no will of your own. As a result, you have become numb to the morality of humans. His smile is chilling, but not strikingly creepy. However, something about it makes you wonder.  
  
“How did you obtain this vessel?”  
  
Caesar frowns. “Remember how I said this town offers tributes to the vampire? Your vessel was the next tribute. I’ll explain more of this when it comes closer to set out on our mission, but the short version is that you are going to play the roll of the tribute tonight. As for how I killed her, I used a quick-acting poison. In return for giving her a quick and painless death, her body became your vessel.”  
  
He nods to himself. “It is probably best I introduce you to the team now. Follow me!”  
  
He leads you up some stairs. The stairs bring you to the ground floor of a quaint wooden house. Outside, the sunset casts orange and pink light over the land. The land is mostly fields and other huts similar to yours. In the distance, a tall castle looms over everything, easily the most eye-catching feature of the entire area.  
  
Caesar calls your attention, and you turn from the window towards him. Standing next to him is a young woman of East Asian descent. Like Caesar, she appears to be in her late teens. Distrust is sewn into her eyes.  
  
“This is Luna,” Caesar says. “She’s second in command. When I’m not around, you can treat her commands as if they were mine.”  
  
You bow your head in greeting. She mimics the motion, but does not say a word.  
  
“GAHAHA! That’s Luna for you!” A burly man enters the room, a huge smile on his face.  
  
“This is—”  
  
“Name’s Deke! Nice to meet ya,” the man says, shaking your hand enthusiastically. “Never worked with a demon b’fore, but I can already tell you look reliable. Maybe you can beat this cranky old mage into shape.” He guffaws, clapping Caesar on the shoulder. The latter does not look amused.  
  
“And finally, we have Villy.”  
  
A tiny girl enters the room. She only comes up to your waist. She smiles when she sees you. “Nice to meet you,” she says, shrugging and going outside.  
  
You whisper into Caesar’s ear, “Your team seems very young. Are you sure you all know what you’re doing?”  
  
“Don’t let appearances fool you. Each person here has killed at least one vampire on their own,” Caesar explains. “And together, we have hunted countless vampires. My team is of the utmost elite.” He walks away, leaving you alone.  
  
With a bit of time on your hands, you decide it would be best to get to know some of the members of the team. You decide to talk to...

> [x] ...Luna, who is examining a set of sharp knives in the corner of the room.  
>  [ ] ...Deke, who is laying in a bed and watching you with mild interest.  
>  [x] ...Villy, who is standing out in the fields.  
>  [ ] ...Caesar, who is preparing food in a makeshift kitchen.  
>  [ ] ...nobody. You’ll wait until it’s time to set out.


	3. Socializing

Luna stands in the corner of the room next to the window. She is carefully comparing several knives. You approach, waiting for her to notice you. She continues to focus on the knives for a little while, but eventually she notices you. Almost immediately she turns back down to her knives, devoting even more attention to them than before. You awkwardly clear your throat.

“Hi,” you say.

She fixes you with a stare. Her eyes seem to pierce into you just like the knives in her hand would. “What do you want?” she says in a distinctly Japanese accent.

A thought crosses your mind. As a demon, you can speak any human language. You answer her in Japanese, “I just wanted to meet you.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “I’ll humour you. It’s nice to speak in my native tongue.” Her dagger eyes become slightly less punishing.

“Are you foreign? I take it we’re far from Japan.”

She nods. “Yeah, Europe. Plenty far. I get strange looks all the time, but it can’t be helped.” Suddenly, she’s a different person. You wonder if she was only cold to you because she doesn’t like to speak English.

“How long have you been... er... hunting vampires?”

Her expression goes blank. Her entire body shifts slightly to the right, with no movement in between; it is as if her placement before and after the shift were two photos in a slideshow.  “I have been a hunter for 16 years.”

Her statement spirals on a trajectory that directly crashes into your impressions of her. You are absolutely sure she’s _no older than_ 18\. To be hunting for so long, she would have to have started as a toddler. You mention the contradiction, but it only elicits a smile from her.

“Don’t let appearances fool you,” she says, slipping her knives into a knife holster above her left knee. “I have to talk to Caesar, so if you will excuse me...”

You are left alone by the window. You wonder if Luna is not completely human – it would easily explain discrepancies with her age. Or maybe there’s some sort of magic at play here? It’s tough to say, considering you know barely anything about these people. As you stare out of the window, you notice Villy standing in the field. She has a bow and arrows; she’s firing them straight up into the air.

You exit the house, approaching the small girl. As you come close, she raises her hand to signify _stop_. You oblige. Moments later, an arrow lands on the ground a few inches in front of you. The girl picks it up and smiles at you. “How was that?”

“Did you know I was coming out?”

“I noticed you watching from the window, so I sent an arrow upwards so that it would land around the time you reached me. Pretty cool, huh?” she places her index finger on her lips. “What did you come out here for?”

You avoid her gaze, opting to stare at the sun as it slowly retracts its tendrils of light over the horizon. “I just wanted to meet you. We’re all going to be working together, so I thought it would be best to learn more about everyone.”

She exhales a tiny “ah,” following your gaze until the two of you are watching the sunset together. “Well, you know my name already. And that I’m a vampire hunter. Anything specific you want to know?”

“I hope you’re not offended by this question, but how old are you?”

She giggles into her hand. “A lady never reveals her age. Don’t worry about it, anyway. My abilities are just as good as the others’. I’ve been hunting vampires for years.”

You wouldn’t be surprised if Villy turned out to be older than her physical body, too. Each of these hunters was mysterious. Their lives were unknown to you. What do they fight for? What kind of people are they? The questions are endless. You are adept at ignoring your own questions, however. As a demon, there were many instances where you were summoned into the world without being given the full picture of the events and people around you. It’s not your job to think about it – you are only a servant.

Still, it doesn’t hurt to ask questions when the opportunity arises.

“Why do you all hunt vampires, anyway?”

Her face lights up. “Oh! Well, vampires do lots of bad things to people. I can fight back, unlike most, so I wanted to devote my powers to good. As for the others...” she taps her finger to her lips again. “Both Caesar and Deke are in it for the glory. They’re a starry-eyed pair, those two. They met first and have been working together ever since. Luna is in it for revenge. She lost her own parents to vampires, I hear, and because of that she swore to wipe them all out. She was the last one to join us. By chance one day, us and Luna were hunting the same vampire; Caesar saw her potential and invited her to join the team. We’ve been inseparable ever since~”

“I can’t help but wonder why Caesar needed to summon me if your team is so powerful.”

She sighs, but the smile doesn’t disappear from her face. “Weeeellll, Remilia Scarlet isn’t your ordinary vampire. As the stories go, she has the ability to control Lady Luck herself! Fate, I mean... As I’m sure you can guess, it’s not the best ability to be up against. Caesar assured us, however, that with a demon on our side we could win. According to him, demons from outside our reality – uh, inter... inter... interdemons? It’s a little fuzzy on what he called them, but those things are resistant to the rules of our world. Things like Remilia Scarlet’s powers over fate don’t affect _you_. So, by taking advantage of that, we can circumvent her ability and hunt her down!”

The sun is barely visible at this point. Darkness begins to descend over the land, causing the distant castle of Remilia Scarlet to seem even more ominous.

She snaps her fingers. “Ah, the sun’s set. Caesar will want to get started, so let’s go back inside.” The two of you re-enter the house, where Luna, Caesar, and Deke are crowded around a table. They’re studying blueprints of some kind.

“Is that the castle’s blueprints?” Villy asks.

Deke nods. “Caesar bribed it off some officials earlier today. Take a look.”

The group studies the blueprints for a little while. You can’t make much sense of everything so you wait patiently for them to finish. After much discussion and pointing at the blueprints, Caesar calls you over to the table. You join them.

“Our plan will go like this,” he says. “Demon, you will play the role of the tribute. You will pretend to be the maiden that previously possessed your vessel. The townsfolk will deliver you to the vampire’s castle, and then once you’re in, Remilia will speak to you personally. Your job is to make sure she drinks at least one drop of your blood. If that happens, the demon blood will disable her powers, and we can close in for the hunt.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, she may realize your blood is abnormal. If that happens, our plan is completely useless. Which is why I will do my best to hide the scent of your blood with spells, but it won’t be perfect. It is best to avoid letting your blood into the open air when she is around, or else she’ll definitely know what’s going on. Do you have any other questions?”

> [x] Yes, I have a question. (Add your question to your vote.)  
>  [ ] No questions. Let’s hunt a vampire.


	4. It Begins

“I have a few questions. First, is there anyone else that lives in her castle? Maybe a guard or servant?”

“That would be my specialty,” Villy says. “I can sense lifeforms in my surroundings. I made sure to visit the castle earlier.” Caesar opens his mouth, but she talks over him. “Don’t worry, I didn’t go _inside_ the castle. I kept mostly to the outer wall and I couldn’t sense anyone besides the vampire.” You nod. A bit strange that someone would be living alone in a castle, but this is a vampire, not a human. It’s likely that vampires prefer solitude.

“Is there a specific room I should be in when she takes my blood? I would assume you guys have to be able to strike quickly.”

“That is correct. However, we don’t need a specific room. With Villy’s ability, we can track the two of you and strike from anywhere. Well, almost...” Caesar pauses, hand on his chin. “Avoid rooms without windows. Most of her castle’s rooms do have them, but there are exceptions. The entire basement floor is one such example. Keep track of where the windows are and try to stay near them if you can. But make sure you don’t make her suspicious in the process. When it comes right down to it, her lack of suspicion will be our win condition.”

You make a mental note to make mental notes about windows.

“Okay. One more question: Is facing her during the night, when vampires are supposedly at their best, worth eliminating her ability?”

“Absolutely. With her ability, day or night, we would undoubtedly lose our lives. She doesn’t eat during the day, so we can’t use you to eliminate her unless it is night time. She has more strength, but it’s worth the tradeoff.”

“Plus, it’s more of a challenge! GAHAHA!” Deke chimes in.

“Alright, the townsfolk will probably show up here soon to pick up their tribute, so let’s get everything cleaned up around here,” Caesar says, ignoring Deke’s comment. He goes on to explain that this house’s basement – the same room where he had summoned you – is where tributes for the vampire are left. They always deliver the tributes at night, so there’s not much time left before they arrive. You and Caesar decide to clean up the traces of summoning in the basement while the others tidy up the ground floor.

“Hey, Caesar,” you say after the basement is clean. “What was my vessel’s name?”

He avoids your eyes. “Clara.”

“There’s something important I need to know. Did Clara die willingly?”

“Uhm... No,” he mutters. “I mean, I never asked. I just figured, since she was already going to die, and in a more painful way too... My alternative was better.” He fakes a smile. “I’m sure she’s grateful. Don’t worry about it.”

He moves towards the door, but stops after grabbing the knob. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not fair that she had to die.” He shakes his head. Then he turns and stares into your eyes fiercely. “Her sacrifice will stop Remilia Scarlet from taking another life ever again. As will all of our efforts. So, I implore you to do your very best, okay?” His smile is legitimate this time. “The townsfolk will be here soon, so stay put until they arrive. Do whatever they say. We’ll be close by.” He leaves the room, locking it on the way out. You slump against the wall, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Sacrifice... the word is somewhat cliché to you. Humans use it often to explain away actions that were driven by an ideal. But, in a way, Caesar isn’t wrong... If the vampire is destroyed tonight, it will largely be because of the sacrifice on you vessel’s part. _If_ she is destroyed.

This circumstance that you have found yourself in is interesting. A group of vampire hunters summon you to assist in destroying an extraordinarily powerful vampire. Remilia Scarlet. The name sounds familiar to you somehow, but this is no surprise. As a servant of humanity, you have been to countless areas in countless eras. Recognizing names is nothing new for you; if anything, the familiarity proves that Remilia Scarlet is as famous as Caesar makes her sound.

But does she die here? You can’t quite remember anything about the vampire besides her name. Your experience with her is null, which means that the events that are about to play out are unknown to you. Even if you _did_ know what was about to happen, Caesar did not allow you to act on knowledge of the future when he granted you permissions. You hope this plan works out, but at the same time, you have some doubts. Hopefully all will be clear when you finally meet the vampire.

...

Noises. People walking around above you. The townsfolk must have arrived to deliver you. The door is unlocked and carefully opened. A ray of light enters, covering your face and body with its embrace. A man stands at the door with a lantern in his hand. He’s short, stocky, and looks visibly upset to see you.

“It’s time,” he grunts. “I’m sorry it has to be like this. Come with me.”

He attaches your wrists to each other using chains. You play the part of scared tribute girl so well that he decides against tying you to his person. He leads you through the quiet fields of the town, neither of you uttering a single sound. Before long you reach the front gate of the vampire’s castle. He knocks on the doors – they slide open just enough that you could slip inside.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the man says, bowing his head. “Good luck.”

You shiver a bit, but say nothing. The doors close automatically behind you as you enter the castle. The great hall stretches ahead of you, with ornate pillars on either side all the way down the hall. A dusty red carpet covers the floor between the pillars. All along the ceiling above the carpet is glass, allowing the full moon’s light to fill the room. At the end of the hall are five steps, and at the top of the steps...

{ BGM : <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJQ5HsXlPTo> }  
_~ Septette for the Dead Princess_ by ZUN ~

[[source](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=43389988)]

...A young girl sits atop a throne. Her white dress drops to her knees and leaves her arms uncovered; her pale exposed skin shimmers like the moon. Her eyes, the colour of blood, capture the surrounding light, making it seem as if they glow. From her back extend a pair of batwings. Her features and body are the very definition of elegance. Upon her face is a wide grin and arched eyebrows, her eyes focused solely on you. Your knees feel weak – out of fear or awe you’re not sure.

“Welcome to my home,” says she, standing up and spreading her arms wide. “I am Remilia Scarlet, or as many of your kind call me, the **Scarlet Devil**.”

> [ ] “I’m Clara.”  
>  [x] “Y-you’re beautiful!”


	5. The Scarlet Devil

The ball is in your court. The others are counting on you to keep Remilia Scarlet in the dark on who you are and what you plan to do. You have to play a role; that of the scared little girl. What should you say? How would a girl like Clara act in this situation?

“Y-you’re beautiful!” You settle for a blend of nervousness and awe. The vampire’s elegance is an indubitable focal detail, and to ignore it would be silly. You add a touch of nervousness to convey underlying fear. You’re a little impressed by your own shrewdness. But, it’s not time to congratulate yourself yet. It is only the beginning of this game of deceit.

“Thank you. You are a fine specimen yourself,” she says, devoid of expression. “I will enjoy your company this fine night. Tell me, what is your name?”

“Clara.”

“A lovely name.”

“Thank you, ma’am...”

“Come with me,” she says. “It won’t do for us to talk out here. I have cosier rooms.”

She waves a hand, causing a portion of the wall behind her throne to disappear. The two of you step through the opening, down a long and dark hallway, and into a small room off to the side. It appears to be a study; along one of the walls is a bookcase with a wooden desk in front of it. A little further away, closer to the door, is a small round table sandwiched by two armchairs. You make a mental note of a window opposite the door.

You and Remilia Scarlet sit on the armchairs. On the table are two wine glasses, but there is no drink accompanying them.

“Clara, tell me about yourself.”

“A-ah... There’s not really much to tell, Miss,” you mumble.

“Please, call me Remilia,” she says, crossing her legs. “Surely you can tell me _something_... Do you have a sister?”

At her words, a memory floats to the surface of your mind.

_A boy stands above you, offering his hand. You take it, and he pulls you up. “That was quite a fall. Be more careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”_

“No sisters...”

_“Tee hee, thank you for helping me,” you say. “You’re the best brother ever!”_

“...But I do have a brother.”

She smiles. “Oh? A brother? Is he older or younger?”

“Older.”

“What is he like?”

“He’s very kind to me,” you mutter absently. The memories float out of reach. You realize they are not your own – they belong to your vessel, Clara. Your mind snaps back to reality. You have a role to play; you mustn’t lose focus here. “I... I miss him,” you add. Scared and confused? Check and check.

“I understand. It can be hard. I’m sure he misses you, too.”

“Do you have any siblings?” you ask. The question is framed as naïve curiosity, but underneath the act you are searching for more information about Remilia. Any stray fact could prove useful.

“I did. She was my younger sister.”

“Did she...?”

“She didn’t die, no. Something happened to her that broke her mind a little bit. She’s never really been the same.”

“I’m... sorry.”

“It is what it is. Hm...” She gestures to the wine glasses on the table. “Would you please fetch some wine from the wine cellar?”

“M-me?”

“Yes, yes. You will do just fine. Simply head down the hall. The wine cellar is on your last left.”

You nod meekly, leaving her behind in the study. Isn’t the host the one who is supposed to do these sorts of things? You suppose it will give you time to think about a strategy for your end of Caesar’s plan. A little ironic, now that you think of it: you’re trying to figure out how to get a vampire to drink your blood, rather than the other way around.

It’s not long before you reach the end of the hall. You turn down a flight of stairs, and immediately find yourself faced by two openings. To the right, you can see the wine cellar. To the left there is a tall metal door. Just as you move towards the wine cellar, you can hear the sound of metal grating. Turning back, you see the metal door, opened just enough for an arm to fit through. In fact, that’s exactly what has fit through the opening. A pale arm, reaching through the opening, waves at you.

“Pssst! Over here!” A child’s voice whispers from the door.

> [x] Cautiously approach the door. Your curiosity is too strong.  
>  [ ] Ignore the arm and voice. The Scarlet Devil wants her wine.


	6. Little Sister

The situation is suspicious. A sudden arm – which is probably attached to a person – reaches through the opening of huge iron doors, beckoning you to come closer? You’re not quite sure how to react. Would Clara approach or ignore Miss Arm? Still, it’s not like Remilia is with you, so maybe you can let the act drop a little...

“Come _on_! You’re making me waaaait!”

You sigh, giving in to Miss Arm’s demands. You stand about a metre away from the arm, peeking through the opening. A portion of a young girl’s face looks back at you, the rest of her obscured by darkness beyond the door. Her red eyes glow ominously in a similar fashion to Remilia’s.

“Hi,” she says. “Care to help a girl out? Can you open this door?”

The door is made of pure metal, but it’s not an issue for you. As a demon, the door is nothing. However, you’re a little hesitant. You don’t know for certain whether or not she has malicious intent regarding you. It’s best to be on guard, after all, so you decide to lie. “Uh... I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do that...”

“Can you come closer, at least?”

“Well, your arm is in the way.”

Her arm disappears behind the opening, but you can still see her eyes carefully watching you. “Here, my arm is gone, so can you come closer? I pinky promise-swear-promise-cross-my-heart-hope-to-die — well, maybe not die, that sounds scary, but I won’t try to grab you or anything like that.”

Even though you’re still wary, you decide to indulge in your curiosity even further by approaching the opening. You crouch so that you’re eye-to-eye with the girl. She smiles. “That’s better! I can see you more clearly. You’re pretty! I lied; I still can’t see you very well. But I’m sure you’re pretty. You sound pretty. Not with your voice, I mean, you just have that sound about you.”

A little overwhelmed, you decide not to decipher what her rambling means. Instead, you decide it would be best to focus on learning who she is and why she’s here. “If I may ask, who are you?”

Is she... is she Remilia’s sister? Earlier, Remilia mentioned having a sister, and this girl has the same pale skin and red eyes. It’s too early to know for certain, but you make a mental note to ask about it. Assuming she is Remilia’s siter, it’s strange that she’s locked behind this huge metal door.

You suppress a sudden shiver.

“Before you ask for a person’s name...”

“Oh, me?” You nod. “Right, I’m Clara, from the village.”

“I am Flandre, Miss Stranger.” She adds with a whisper, “You could never be from the village.”

“Maybe I should have said... uh... something else?” You smile weakly. “How did you know?”

“I can see your eye very clearly,” she says. “It’s a human eye, sure, but you’re not even attached to it. It’s like your floating outside your own eye.”

“My... eye?” You place a hand over your right eye.

“No, not that one. This one!” Flandre places a hand on your chest. “Your eye is right in here. It’s the very center of yo— oh no, I said I would put my arm away— Sorry! Sorry!” She pulls back. “Sorry, I should really go.”

“It’s alright, I’m not upset.”

“I really, really should go... I’ll get in trouble.”

“In trouble?”

“I lied to you. I’m a bad girl.”

“Like I said, it’s fi—”

But your protests are futile, for she is already gone.

> [ ] Move the door and pursue her. She needs to be reassured.  
>  [x] Leave her be. There is wine to deliver.


	7. Rain of Blood

You try to look into the room behind the iron door, but the darkness prevents you from seeing anything. You can’t hear anything either; it’s as if Flandre was never there. How big is the room? Unfortunately, time is ticking away, and you’re worried Remilia will get suspicious if you take too long. You hesitantly step away from the door and enter the nearby wine cellar.

The room is spacious. There are a lot of empty barrels and shelves that you assume to have once stored liquor. In fact, the room is so empty that you can’t spot a single bottle of wine. Did Remilia know the room was empty? If so, why did she send you down here? If not, what happened here? You return to her empty-handed.

“S-sorry, Miss. I couldn’t find any wine,” you mumble once you have rejoined her in the study.

Her charismatic smile does not falter. “Is that so? It’s pretty dark down there... You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, you were gone for a while, so you must have been searching hard,” she said, beginning to circle you. “We’ll have to substitute with another fine drink...”

Something sharp pricks your arm, drawing blood. You instinctively pull yourself away from her. She giggles, tasting the blood on her hand – your blood. You quickly realize what happened. By tasting your blood, her ability to control fate will be neutralized. She’s lost this battle. You can’t help but smile.

“Why are you smiling, Clara? My powers aren’t disabled by your blood, I can assure you.”

You furrow your brow. “What are you talking about?”

She laughs heartily.  “Don’t be coy... I know you’re a demon. Flandre told me.”

The hair on the back of your neck stands up. Flandre... Oh no! Did Remilia know beforehand that you would meet Flandre? Did she send you downstairs specifically for that reason? It would explain why there was no wine...

“I don’t know who summoned you, but they’ve made a pitiful mistake,” Remilia says, slowly stepping toward you. “You can’t disable my powers by demon blood. They’re disabled only by your being; I can guide the fate of any creature but you.”

You’re backed up against the bookcase. Remilia leans in, her hands firmly grasping your wrists. You can smell wine in her breath. “Well?”

 _Damn_. This is not going well at all. But... since your cover is blown, you’re not restricted to acting like a little girl anymore. You can speak your mind. You can use your inhuman talents to fight back. You refuse to lose here. The others are counting on you!

“You’re being a huge nuisance,” you spit. “The people of the neighbouring village don’t need someone like you lording over them.”

“How quick you are to accuse!” she exclaims, taken aback. “I don’t even know why...”

“Anyway, could you leave?”

“This is my castle, is it not? You are the one who will leave.”

“I want you to leave this world!”

She studies you for a few moments, her face a mix of confusion and annoyance. “So that’s how it’s going to be, then?” She releases your wrists, stepping towards the window. “The moon is so beautiful tonight...” She turns, staring at you with a deranged expression. “I will end your life.”

“The moon _is_ beautiful, but...” you trail off, trying again, “Looks like it’s going to be a long night.”

“Looks like it’s going to be a _fun_ night.”

She charges towards you. You move from the course of collision and exit the study. With little time to think, you begin running down the hall. Remilia bursts through the door seconds later, chasing after you from the air. Up ahead, you can spot stairs that go in two directions. One leads to the wine cellar and Flandre’s room, while the other goes up.

> [ ] Go downstairs. Maybe Flandre can help.  
>  [x] Go upstairs. Maybe you can find a window and get the others to help.


	8. Retreat

You race down the hall with Remilia in hot pursuit. You put all you can into running, moving at such a speed that the floor creaks and crackles under your feet. Soon you reach the stairs, and decide to move up rather than down. The chance of finding the others via a window is better than getting on Flandre’s good side. Besides, she’s the one who ratted out your true identity in the first place.

You climb the stairs at a pace that no ordinary human could manage. Remilia floats over the staircase, chasing you from the air. It’s subtle, but you can tell she’s gaining on you, even with your superhuman speed at play. Soon you are headed down another long hallway, although this one is wider and more extravagant than the one on the ground floor. Expensive chandeliers dangle from the ceiling above. Interspersed throughout the hallway are small tables with flower vases perched upon them; however, all of the flowers are dead.

While there are an endless array of rooms on your right, on the left side of the hall are an abundance of ornate windows. The full moon shines brightly through the line of glass, casting the entire hallway in a blue glow. It would be serene if it weren’t for the demon and vampire crashing through the scene. The windows are just what you need to get help from the others, but you feel uneasy about the idea. Remilia’s powers haven’t been stopped, so how can they possibly beat her now?

...

Damn.

Damn it!

Your heart sinks as you realize, too late, that the hallway ends. A thick stone wall opposes your escape, allowing Remilia to finally catch up.

“Did you think you could get away? This is my domain, you know,” Remilia says. You turn to her with a fierce glare. “That’s quite a face you’re making... Don’t be mean. Naughty children get punished.”

“You’re the child here,” you say, pointing out her childlike appearance.

“I’m older than most humans. Do demons grow older, I wonder?”

“Are you going to kill me or what?”

“If a demon can die, it must be able to age...”

She holds her hand up in the air. A spear materializes in her hand. It’s not made of wood or metal; the spear itself is made up of energy. It glows ominously. She draws it back, rearing to throw. And then, just like that, the spear is gone. Remilia did not aim for you. Instead, she had hurled the spear through the window. Glass shatters, the spear disappears, and all becomes silent. Luna stands in front of the window, a knife in one hand and a pocket watch in the other. She points the knife at Remilia.

“Oh, I missed the vermin that wandered into my house.”

“Die, monster! You don’t belong in this world!”

Remilia smirks. “What kind of feeble line is that?”

Without any prior warning, Luna is on top of Remilia. The movement was untraceable even by your eyes; it was as if Luna standing next to the window and being on top of Remilia were two snapshots in a slideshow. She holds the knife close to Remilia’s throat. “Any last words?”

“I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

Remilia breaks apart into dozens of bats. Luna tries to stab them with her knife, but there are too many for her to attack. They float towards the ceiling and converge into one being – Remilia reforms, flying above Luna and yourself.

“Clara, Clara... why didn’t you tell me we would be having guests? I would have made sure I could accommodate more than one!” She gestures to Luna. “Who are you, I wonder?”

“My name is Luna,” she says, a twinkle in her eye. “My job is to hunt creatures like you.”

“Ah! I haven’t seen your type in a few months. So, are you also a diabolist? Clara must have been yours.”

“I’m not here to talk. I’m here for your soul.”

“I don’t have a soul.”

“Then I’ll just have to destroy your corpse!”

A series of knives appear, flying at Remilia in a cross-pattern. She tries to float out of the path of the oncoming barrage, but they move so fast that one of the knives manages to cut her arm. The air is filled by a loud _hiss_ as steam pours out of her cut.

“Silver... you came prepared...” she says ominously. “You were able to throw all of those knives in less than a second. You’re no ordinary hunter, it seems.” Her expression hardens. “I’ve had enough of this game. Leave now, or I will devote the rest of this fine night to spreading your remains across this castle and the fields beyond.”

Luna responds with another barrage of knives. Remilia, expecting it this time, swerves out of the way before any knives can land a hit. Her spear reappears. She fires the spear at Luna, but the latter is already down the hall by the time the spear hits the ground. “Slippery one, aren’t you?!” Remilia shouts, chasing Luna back down the hall.

As soon as the two are out of earshot, a hand grasps your shoulder. You jump, turning— it’s Caesar!

“You’re okay?” he asks, concern etched into his brow.

“Yes, but you guys shouldn’t have come here! The blood didn’t work!”

“What?!”

“Remilia said that drinking my blood wouldn’t have any effect. She knew what we were planning already! We can’t let Luna fight her!”

“Don’t fret,” Caesar says. “I instructed Luna only to distract the vampire. Villy picked up on the second vampire in the basement while you were down there. Frankly, this plan is in shambles, so we’ve decided to retreat for now. Luna will serve as a distraction until the rest of us can get out of here, then she’ll rejoin us later.”

> [ ] Trust them. Luna knows what she’s doing. Escape with Caesar and the others while you can.  
>  [x] They’re wrong. It’s too dangerous! Chase after Luna and Remilia.


	9. Diversion

Caesar stares into your eyes earnestly, a worried smile plastered onto his face. You keep your expression vague, pondering his “Plan B,” as it were. It doesn’t sit well with you. Sure, he’s technically your master, but far be it from you to act like a human’s dog. Contrary to what most people think, demons have emotions and desires just like humans do.

You take a deep breath. “Caesar, do you remember why you summoned me? My ability to nullify Remilia’s powers is key. What makes you think Luna can get by without it?”

“Er...”

“The fact is, you blew it,” you say, “I don’t know where you got your original information, but as I said, the blood thing failed. Without my help, Remilia can use her powers to ‘fate’ the ending of this battle, right? Isn’t that how it works?”

“Yes, but...”

He frowns, his hand on his chin and his eyebrows furrowed. He taps his foot a few times.

“I guess you’re right,” he mutters hesitantly.

“I’ll cover for Luna’s escape. Then I’ll rejoin you guys later. Okay?”

He sighs. “...Fine. I’ll trust you, Clara. But don’t you dare die.”

I chuckle, but say nothing. He pulls a small stone out of his pocket and holds it close to his mouth.

“Luna. Return to our entry point. We’re leaving the rest to Clara.”

He falls silent, focusing on the stone intently. Presumably, the stone has an enchantment that allows Luna and Caesar to communicate with each other. He frowns. “No, Luna, listen: she’s going to cover for our escape. We’ll regroup and try something else later. Escape is the priority.”

...

“Thank you,” he finally says. “Alright, she’ll let you take her place. It’s up to you now. Good luck.” He hands you the enchanted stone. “Just in case. Oh, and this.” From his pockets, he produces a silver knife, and places it in your hand. You nod, thanking him silently.

You turn and run down the hallway. It doesn’t take long for you to reach Remilia and Luna, fighting it out as before. The battle has not changed much; Luna continues to fire dozens of knives at once while Remilia focus mostly on evading. There are a few large holes in the walls and floor, which you assume to have been caused by Remilia’s spear.

As soon as Luna notices my presence, she grants me a thankful nod, and then disappears altogether. Remilia scowls in my direction.

“Back again, are you?” she snaps. “Are you going to fight this time?”

She throws the spear. You try to avoid it, but it’s too fast. The spear hits you in the middle of your chest, bursting through your body and eventually coming out the other side. You crumple to the ground, screaming in pain.

Remilia lands next to you. She grabs you by the collar, lifting you up. She’s so short that your knees brush against the floor as she holds you. Realizing this, she floats into the air so that your legs hang freely. Her eyes fall to your chest wound.

“That would have killed an ordinary human...” she mutters.

She drops you.

“Well, you’re too durable. I won’t be able to catch your friends at this rate. So...” she smiles, her fangs fully exposed. “I’ll just have to get to you after I’ve killed the rest of them.” Chains shoot out of her fingers, wrapping around you and locking in place. They’re made of a scarlet mist, causing them to be extremely translucent but no less restrictive than real chains.

Then, without another word, she smashes through the window and flies into the open night air.

Well, this is great! You completely failed your own plan and let the others down in the process. Apparently you’re not much better than Caesar at formulating plans.

You whimper as the wound on your chest is beginning to renew itself. The process is no less painful than receiving the wound; flesh sews itself together, organs regenerate, bones are repaired – soon, your chest is completely restored. However, you can’t escape the chains. Even though you’re gifted with strength beyond normal humans, the chains still bind you. They wrap around your entire body, from feet to shoulders. Only your head is exposed.

“Miss Clara?”

You turn your head.

{ BGM: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrK8OFJ5T50> }

~ Piano arrangement of _U.N. Owen was Her?_ , original composed by ZUN ~

[[source](https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=60793040)]

...A young girl stands by the staircase. She wears a red dress that matches her glowing red eyes. Her skin is pale and almost seems to shimmer. Her hair is yellow, and reminds you of the sun, though it is a bit messy. A pair of bat-like wings spread out from her back. The way she holds herself, she seems incredibly shy and unsure of herself. Her expression is dipped in worry, and her eyes are on you.

“I-it’s me, Flandre...” she says, avoiding your eyes sheepishly. You smile, trying to look welcoming. That seems to reassure her; she smiles back and slowly approaches you.

“I’m sorry I told on you,” she says once she’s standing next to you. “I’m so sorry...”

“It’s... It’s okay, Flandre,” you say, a little taken aback. You’re not sure what Flandre’s role in all of this is, besides her relation to Remilia, but something about her makes you want to protect her.

“Are you sure? Oh... I know, let me make it up to you!”

She holds her hand out in front of her, palm up. Focusing on you, she grimaces and then closes her hand tightly. The chains around you explode, sending you into the air. However, instead of crashing into the ground, you land in Flandre’s arms.

“Oh,” you huff, slightly out of breath.

“Sorry, did it hurt? I tried not to let it break so much.”

“I’m fine,” you reply. It’s a small lie; your body is extremely hot and your bones are aching, but it’s nothing serious. “Thank you for your help.”

She grins. “Do you want to play?”

Something about her eyes puts you on edge.

 

> [x] Let’s play the “save my friends from the vampire” game.  
>  [ ] Tell her you can’t play today.


	10. Let's Play

“Uh, sure, we can play a game,” you say without really thinking.

“Yay! What game are we going to play, Miss?”

There’s only one thing you want to do right now, and that’s stop Remilia. So, as a game...

“We’re going to play a game called ‘Good Vampire versus Bad Vampire.’ In the game, the good vampire has to stop the bad vampire before she does something bad. Guess who gets to be the good vampire? You!”

She blinks. “ _I’m_ the good vampire?”

“Yes! Also, the bad vampire is Remilia. So, we gotta stop her before she does something bad!”

“Oh, Remi is the bad one... Okay. What are you?”

“I’m... uh...” You didn’t think of that. To be fair, you’re coming up with this on the spot. “...I’m the good vampire’s assistant!”

She stares at you for a few moments, devoid of expression. The tips of her mouth bend upwards ever-so slightly. “That sounds like a fun game,” she says. “Assistant! Where’s the Scarlet Devil off to now?!” She raises her arms, palms upturned, with her face frozen in mock frustration.

You point dramatically at the nearby broken window. “She escaped the castle, ma’am! We have to give chase!”

“Alright!! Oops... I mean...” She giggles into her hand. “We’ll have to chase after her then,” she says in a low voice, nodding solemnly.

She holds onto your waist and floats through the window. She appears to glow in the moonlight. The two of you fire off into the night. The moonlight illuminates the countryside, exposing fields, houses, and trees. The scarcely-populated countryside looks even lonelier at night. Having a living vampire as powerful as Remilia Scarlet nearby isn’t going to do wonder for the local population. However, you’re sure that this is a popular region for vampire hunters.

“It’s getting cloudy, huh?” Flandre asks. She’s right; dark clouds are blowing over the region.

“Yeah...”

“Do you know which way the bad vampire went?”

“Let me find out,” you say, reaching for Caesar’s enchanted stone. You speak into it, “Caesar, I’m safe. What’s your status and how far from the castle are you?”

“We are a few miles north of the castle. We’re safe, but Villy can sense the Scarlet Devil pursuing us. I take it she got through you?” Caesar’s voice sounds as if he’s right in front of you, but Flandre doesn’t react to it. Come to think of it, you couldn’t hear Luna’s replies to Caesar when he used the stone, so it must send sounds directly to each participant’s brain.

“She ditched me in favour of you guys. Hold on tight. I’ll be rejoining you shortly.”

“Alright.”

You replace the stone in your pocket.

“What’s that stone?” Flandre asks.

“I can talk to my friends through it. Remilia is chasing after them close by, so keep your eyes peeled.”

The two of you spend the next few minutes of your flight scanning the lands below. Eventually, you spot a tiny humanoid figure speeding through the air.

“That must be her,” you say, pointing. She nods. The two of you fall into line behind Remilia and begin to follow her. Thunder booms in the distance. The sky is covered by dark clouds. Remilia is not even deterred by the possibility of rain, a weakness of vampires. Eventually, she begins to descend, so Flandre follows suit. She lands near a large patch of trees.

Flandre gently lets you down and lands next to you. You nod, thanking her with a smile.

“She’s coming close to our refuge spot,” Caesar’s voice resounds in your head. “Where are you?”

“Close behind her,” you say.

> [x] Confront Remilia as quickly as possible before she meets Caesar and the others.  
>  [ ] Watch events unfold from further away, but be prepared to step in when things go sour.


	11. Choice

You charge after Remilia with reckless abandon, Flandre following close behind you. Bushes sway in your wake and dead leaves crunch beneath your feet, alerting Remilia of the imminent impact, but she has little time to react. In mere seconds, Flandre unceremoniously collides with her, sending them both several metres across the ground.

You slow to a stop, ending up where Remilia had been standing. Flandre hops off of her sister, bouncing in place and pointing at Remilia eagerly.

“I win! I win!”

“Shut up,” Remilia growls, climbing to her feet. Flandre’s cheerfulness dissipates immediately, replaced by a grimace and light trembling. “This isn’t a game. _You_ ,” she hisses, glaring in your direction, “Don’t involve my sister in this.”

“I could have sworn that you did that first.”

She breaks into a sprint, closing in on you in seconds. You try to run, but she latches onto your back. Her legs wrapping around your torso and her hands grasp your shou— AHHHHH! Your shoulders, your shoulders! At this rate, she’ll crush your bones. You feel a sharp prick of pain on the right side of your neck— GAH! She’s biting you, tearing skin, your blood burning as it comes into contact with her saliva.

You’re screaming, she’s screaming, and somewhere, you’re sure you can hear Flandre screaming too. You stumble around, barely able to remain on your feet with the combination of Remilia’s weight and the pain.

However, amongst the pure chaos of that moment, it dawns on you that Remilia is more open to an attack from you now than she has been the entire night. With this realization comes another: _you still have Caesar’s knife_. You grasp the weapon in your left hand; you can’t exactly feel your right arm anymore. She doesn’t notice the weapon, but she _does_ manage to throw you off-balance. You fall to the ground with her firmly latched onto you.

The force of crashing into the ground leaves you dazed for a moment, but you quickly shake it off. _There’s no time_. You swing the knife towards your right shoulder, catching her hand with the blade at the cost of stabbing your own flesh. The primal noises she was making only seconds prior turn into screams of pain. The knife pins her hand to your shoulder. You hear a strange hiss and realize that it is the sound of her skin, evaporating.

She kicks and claws at you, trying to get away as soon as possible. As if she were paper under a tack, she is unable to remove her hand from under the knife. You attempt to stand, but the vampire frantically fights you every inch of the way. You [i]do[/i] eventually reach your feet, and quickly pull the knife from your shoulder. Without wasting any time, you turn and dive onto Remilia, holding the knife up against her heart. She freezes immediately, her eyes slowly moving up to meet yours.

You hold the knife there. The two of you pant heavily, neither daring any sudden movements. Blood trails from her lips all the way down her neck. Her clothes, having before been a light shade of white or pink (tonight’s lighting had never made it clear), have become stained by your blood. You realize, with a hint of irony, that she might be called the Scarlet Devil simply because of how she drinks blood.

 _Clap_ , _clap_.

You tilt your head slightly; just enough to keep an eye on Remilia while still seeing the source of the noise. Near the patch of trees up ahead, you can see Caesar. He claps slowly, a smile of bravado and confidence upon his face, his eyes focused directly on Remilia’s.

“Oh dear,” he says in a high voice, “Seems like you enjoyed the meal I prepared for you. That’s good...” His voice drops to its usual range, but filled with malice, “Especially since it was your last.

“But, I’m a considerate person. I’ll let you state your case. Explain to me why you deserve to live, Remilia Scarlet. Maybe I’ll let you go!”

“What, are you expecting me to beg?” she spits. “I’d sooner burn for an eternity than beg to a human. A lowly peasant, at that. How exactly did you come to diabolism? You’re one of most sloppy, incompetent vampire hunters that have had it out for me.”

“You don’t seem to understand your situation, Remilia Scarlet. [i]I’m[/i] the one in power here.”

A silver knife materializes in Remilia’s shoulder, sending her into another bout of screaming. After a few seconds, the knife disappears.

“Well? Are we humble yet?”

“ _Burn in hell_ ,” Remilia hisses.

“Alright, but you asked for—”

“Wait!”

Flandre emerges from the bushes, standing between Caesar and Remilia, spreading her arms wide. “Don’t hurt Remi! Please!”

“Flandre! Stay out of this!”

Caesar blinks. “Oh. The other vampire.” He shakes his head. “Listen, girl. I have no qualms with you, personally. Sure, I’m out for all vampires, but tonight’s hunt was just the Scarlet Devil. If you leave us be, I’ll let you off the hook just this once.”

“Flandre, run! Get away from here!”

“No! I can’t let you hurt Remi!”

He frowns. “I see. So that’s how it will be.” His expression hardens. “Clara, if she makes any sudden moves, I want you to kill Remilia Scarlet.”

The hair on your skin stands on its ends. Flandre slowly turns to stare at you. “My assistant? A traitor?”

“...I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Flandre freezes.

“That’s more like it,” Caesar says. He nods solemnly. “I’m not a fan of dragging this sort of thing out, so let’s just get it over with... Clara, would you do the honours?”

The fear in Flandre’s expression changes – it morphs into something dark, angry. She stares into your eyes with hatred. “You lied. Clara is a liar...” If looks could kill, her glare would lead to an instantaneous, explosive death. However, she does not move. She becomes so still that if you didn’t know any better, you would have mistaken her for a life-sized statue.

“Clara?”

You glance down at Remilia. Her chest rises and falls as breath passes through her lungs, but that is the only movement from her. Her eyes are shut, as if in a deep sleep. She knows what’s coming. She’s ready.

But are you? Are you ready to do this?

Who is Remilia Scarlet?

Who is Caesar?

Who even are _you_?

“Clara, by my role as your Master...”

Sure, in this body, you’re Clara. And beyond that, you’re a demon from beyond this plane.

“...the one who has supplied you with a mortal vessel to inhabit this world...”

But beyond even that...

“...and who has supplied you with permissions to allow you to remain in this world...”

What does your true identity say about this situation?

“...and as by your role as my Servant...”

Do you honour Remilia’s life?

“...the one who exists to fulfill the tasks of humanity...”

Do you honour Caesar’s trust?

“...and finally, by the terms we made in our pact that created this partnership...”

Luna’s trust?

“...I, Caesar...”

Flandre’s trust?

“...command you, Clara...”

Do you honour the contract?

“...to fulfill our contract here and now...”

Do you honour your own agendas, even at the cost of punishment? Do you follow the system set about for your kind, even at the cost of a life? If you do follow the system, won’t you be saving lives, since the person in question is a powerful vampire? If you let her live, will she go on to change the future, causing events to occur that wouldn’t be possible otherwise?

“...by killing Remilia Scarlet.”

> [ ] Follow the contract.  
>  [x] Spare Remilia’s life.


	12. Third Term

The decision is heavy on your heart.

Normally, you feel a cold detachment from the acts you perform for your Masters. In this case, something hits closer to home than those of your other contracts. Killing Remilia rubs you the wrong way. You can’t place it, but it’s almost as if you have met her before. The familiarity makes killing her harder than if she was a faceless villain.

However, it _is_ your duty. You glance at Caesar. His eyes are on the knife in your hands. He is so fixated on the weapon that you wonder if he will take it and kill her himself. From his stance, you can see more in him than a desire to save lives from a vampire: you see hatred. Is his hatred a justification for killing Remilia?

Flandre’s eyes continue to burn as she stares at you intensely. If you kill Remilia now, she will be alone. Flandre will no longer have a sister. The vampires you have met in the past tend to be the territorial types, so you doubt that she has anyone else to turn to. If you follow Caesar’s orders, you risk leaving her completely alone.

Remilia... Her steady breathing is almost peaceful. Does she accept her death – perhaps even desire it? You doubt that. From what you know of her, she may be trying to leave this world the same way that she lived in it: with elegance. It is here, in this barren field, that she will experience a silent, elegant death, by your hands.

Or _will_ it be by your hands?

You don’t deserve a choice. You are not a vampire hunter. You’re not a powerful non-human. In this world, you are only a tool. Humans use you to complete a task. A knife has no will in this world; whether used for cutting vegetables or killing, it follows the will of its wielder.

...Is that really true? Even knives develop freewill of their own over time. Is it not the same for demons? Perhaps that is why you find yourself stuck.

You find yourself re-analyzing the terms of your contract. Searching for some sort of slip of the tongue – wording that will give you the freedom you need.

_“As scribed by the old laws of your kind, demon, I command you to complete the following task: assist me and my team in destroying a powerful adversary. My terms are as follows._

_One; you may not kill anybody unless I give you explicit permission._

He is actively communicating to you that he wants you to kill Remilia, so the first term is being upheld.

_Two; you may not inflict any pain on the bodies of myself or my companions._

Your current position has no involvement with the physical bodies of Caesar, Villy, Deke, or Luna, so the second term is also being upheld.

_Three; before any other task, your first priority is to protect me from any person, animal, or thing that intends me harm._

...

That’s it!

If you kill Remilia now, you will lose your bargaining chip regarding Flandre. Should she then go on a rampage – which is highly likely given the murderous glare on her face – you cannot guarantee the safety of Caesar. Since his safety takes the highest priority, as per his terms, killing Remilia here would violate the contract. This is just the kind of loophole you need!

You turn to Caesar. “Master, I am unable to kill Remilia Scarlet at this time.”

All eyes are on you. Flandre’s anger dilutes, mild curiosity intermingling. Remilia opens her eyes, a glimmer of hope in them. Caesar’s brow furrows and he bites his lower lip tightly.

“You can’t go back on the contract, Clara,” he says in a shaky voice.

“You are right that I can’t go back on the contract. But, you made something very clear to me when we were working out the terms: my first priority is your safety.”

“Yes. As you can see, I’m perfectly safe—”

“If I were to kill Remilia Scarlet at this very moment, you would be dead in mere seconds. Flandre, the little sister to Remilia Scarlet, would turn on us before we had any time to fight back.”

“Sure, but we can handle her. We handled her big sister just fine.”

Remilia begins to laugh. It’s an empty laugh that comes from the back of her throat. “Don’t tempt the gods today, hunter.”

“ _You_ need to shut up,” he growls.

“No, you do!” Flandre shouts, clenching her fist.

The base of a nearby tree explodes. The position and angle of the explosion sends the remains of the tree in a direct trajectory for Caesar. He barely reacts in time, shouting words you can’t quite hear to create a bubble of energy around him. The tree bounces off of the bubble harmlessly and lands on the ground.

Flandre grabs another tree, uprooting it with just her hands, and swings it towards Caesar. Sparks of energy fly off of his magic bubble when the tree collides, reversing the force applied so quickly that Flandre loses her grip on it. The tree sails into the air, heading straight towards you and Remilia. Instinctively, you duck, pressing yourself as close to Remilia (and the ground) as possible. The tree grazes by, landing on the ground behind you.

“This is bad,” she whispers. She motions tilts her head in Flandre’s direction. “ _She’s_ going to destroy everything that moves... and doesn’t move, I suppose... if we don’t do something about it.”

“I... er... What should we do?”

“I can calm her down, but you need to convince Caesar to retreat. If he sticks around, she won’t listen to a word I say.”

“Alright... I’ll try,” you mumble. You’re still holding the knife. “Can... can I trust you?”

Remilia smiles. “Your actions are noble, if a bit silly. That said, I appreciate you sparing my life for the time being, so when we get out of this, I’ll let you amateurs go on your merry way.”

You still only have her word to go by. You could definitely make a diabolic contract with her to keep her to her word, but there’s not enough time for that. You have no choice but to trust her; the alternative is not a good prospect.

“...Alright. I’ll trust you.”

“Thank you.”

You rise to your feet, and help her to hers. She smiles.

It’s a formal smile. There is no emotion to it.

The trees in the area are disappearing quickly. With seemingly little effort, Flandre uproots and attack Caesar’s magic bubble with tree after tree. Cracks and gaps in the shield created by the onslaught are clearly visible. Caesar holds his hands out tensely, focusing all of his efforts on keeping up the bubble.

“Caesar!”

“Clara! Help!”

You reach the bubble, placing your hands on it. In response, the bubble turns from blue to purple, and the damage done to it slowly repairs itself. Caesar drops his arms.

“Get out while you can,” you say, “It’s too dangerous to fight them right now. Regroup with the others and come up with a new plan. I’ll hold them off so you can escape, just as we were going to do before you got thirsty for the kill.”

“But— Clara, wait—”

“No! Don’t resist! Just get out while you can! I can’t keep this shield up forever. You need to escape.”

Confliction etches itself deep into his brow. “You should have killed her then...”

He shakes his head. “But, I’m glad you didn’t. We might both be dead right now. So...” He turns, staring into the distance. “Don’t die here, Clara. Stay safe.”

He breaks into a sprint, the bubble moving with him.

You focus on the vampires. Remilia is holding onto Flandre tightly, saying something. She’s not resisting, but her eyes are still filled with anger, and her fists are still balled tightly at her sides.

> [ ] Follow Caesar. Trust Remilia to sort it out.  
>  [x] Apologize to Flandre. Keep them distracted so that Caesar can escape.


	13. Burning

Their eyes follow you closely as you approach. Flandre, tight in Remilia’s embrace, narrows her eyes. When you are within speaking distance, she lets out a low growl. Remilia does not react; neither to your approach nor Flandre’s hostility. She simply continues to hold onto her sister, watching you with empty eyes.

“Sorry,” you try.

“ _Idiot_!” Flandre snaps. “That wasn’t a game at all!”

“Flandre, please try to relax,” Remilia says softly.

“No! Don’t treat me like a child! I can control myself!”

“Flandre, everything will be alright. Nobody is going to hurt you. Nobody is going to hurt me. We’re safe now.”

“No! No! The liar is there! Don’t let her trick you!”

“Fla—”

Flandre bursts out of her sister’s embrace. She flies above the two of you, raising her hand to her waist, her fingers open. Nothing is there, but she holds her hand as if there is something small and delicate in her palm.

“This is your eye...” she whispers. “All I have to do is squeeze it and you’ll leave me alone forever...”

She looks around. You mimic her, taking in your surroundings. Trees are lying across the ground like bodies in a battlefield. Here and there, small flames lick up some of the fallen trees eagerly. You suspect that the fire was the result of clashing with Caesar’s magic bubble.

“Look at all of this mess,” she continues. “This is all I know how to do. Break stuff. Ahaha...” She brings her hand to her ear. “What’s that, little eye? You don’t want to be broken? I can’t hear you...”

She focuses on you. “I can’t hear you...” she repeats, a dangerous edge to her voice.

What does she want you to say? Her mood is getting increasingly unstable. She’s saying a lot of stuff, but at the core of it you can tell that she’s hurt. Is it because you lied to her, or is it something deeper than that? What could have set the stage for this pent-up frustration? Unfortunately, you don’t know her. You know barely anything about her. You glance at Remilia for help. She bites her lip.

“Flandre, please don’t do this. Clara didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Did she say that?! She’s lying to you! Don’t let her trick you, Remi!”

“Flandre,” you interject softly, attempting to mimic Remilia’s gentle tone, “I didn’t mean to lie. It was a mistake, and completely my fault. I’m sorry.”

The words sound fake coming from your mouth. It’s not about the “game” the two of you played. She knows that, and you know that. Apologizing for that means nothing. What does she want you to say?

“No. No, you’re not.”

“Flandre, come down, okay? We can talk about this back at the castle.”

“Why? So you can give us some tea and we all talk and talk and laugh?” She floats higher, her hand tightening slightly. “It’s so easy... Just one small move and you’ll be gone. And then Remilia will be safe!”

 _Remilia will be safe_...

The pieces come together. She’s scared of her sister being hurt. She just heard Caesar’s horrible speech, and saw you holding a knife to her sister. She’s scared of these unknown threats – you, Caesar, and the others – she’s scared that you managed to reach her sister. She’s scared that you will do it again. She’s not upset that you lied about playing a game with her. She’s upset because you pose a threat to Remilia.

“Flandre...”

She stares at you. Her eyes burn, as before, but beneath her anger you can see a girl who is scared and lost. Her fingers are tight, but she hasn’t closed her hand just yet. She’s listening. She’s giving you a chance.

> [x] “I’m sorry for threatening Remilia’s life.”  
>  [ ] “I promise I won’t hurt Remilia from now on.”


	14. Grazing Obliteration

You consider trying to tell her about the nearby village to try to show her Caesar’s point of view. You could explain that the people there feel the same way or worse than she does. Their loved ones are routinely whisked away to the vampire castle to never be seen again. The fear and loss that those deal with on a regular basis must surely be great; greater, even, than Flandre’s fear for her sister. However, you decide against mentioning it. For one, you’re not sure if the circumstances in the village are exactly as you imagine. Also, there’s no guarantee that Flandre, as a vampire, sees the humans in the village as anything more than cattle.

You could promise not to hurt Remilia, but that leads to its own batch of problems. You are bound by contract, so a promise of that magnitude means that you will either have to find a way out of the contract or break your promise. Both options would lead you into a very tough predicament – possibly even tougher than your current one.

The air feels uneasy. It crowds around you, applying pressure on ever inch of your body. The pressure ignites pain in your mutilated shoulder. You silently shut off the functions associated with pain so that it doesn’t consume all of your attention. Flandre, a small ball of fury floating a few metres in front of and above you, vies for your potentially final words.

“Well? What do you have to say?”

With no way to justify yourself, and promises out of the question, the only thing left is apologizing.

“Okay, listen,” you begin, “I’m sorry for threatening Remilia’s life. And... I’m sorry for betraying your trust. I never intended this.”

She shrugs, eying her closed fist. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m under a contract to follow Caesar’s orders – that’s the mage you just met. He and I are bound by a contract. On my end of the deal, I must destroy a powerful adversary of his. He selected your sister as my target, so I had no choice.”

“If it’s a contract, how come you didn’t go through with it?”

“One of my terms of my contract was to make Caesar’s safety my highest priority. Because you were a threat to his safety, I used this term as a loophole to spare Remilia’s life.”

Her glare softens slightly. “I... saved her?”

“Yes. You gave me an opportunity to spare your sister.”

“You’re making it sound as if you wanted that opportunity,” Remilia says, raising an eyebrow. She opens her mouth to continue, but shuts it almost immediately, watching Flandre cautiously.

You follow her eyes, but Flandre is only staring at you, her face filled by confusion. You fall silent for a moment, pondering. “...I have no will. I am a tool. But, needless killing is always a good thing to avoid.”

“I see. How benevolent of you,” Remilia replies, a sly smile on her face.

“So... you’re not going to kill Remi?” Flandre asks, landing on the ground. Her grip on your eye loosens slightly. The pressure in the air dissipates.

“I cannot promise that. We will have to see what happens.”

She frowns. “Then... maybe I should break you so that there’s no risk.”

Remilia approaches, tapping Flandre’s wrist lightly. She steps backwards, taken aback by the sudden contact.

“Not yet,” Remilia says. “I have an idea.”

“But Remi, she has to kill you!”

“I have a way around it...” she says, a devilish grin spreading across her face. “Tell me, Clara; did that amateur apply any sort of time restriction to your contract?”

“No, there were no such restrictions.”

Her grin widens. You feel a little unsettled by the expression. “I see.” She takes Flandre’s hand. “Well, we are going back to the castle. This time, I’ll let you escape. You can run along to join your allies. But remember that the next time we meet, we will be enemies.”

She tenses up so that she can leap into flight, but after a moment, she relaxes. Her gaze travels to the moon. “I have a plan that may benefit all of us. If an intruder decided to follow us to the castle, I might be able to discuss my plan with them. I suppose we will see where Fate decides to cast the die, won’t we? See you again soon, Clara.”

And with that, the two set off into the night, Flandre looking back at you with complete and utter confusion upon her face.

> [x] “Intrude” on Remilia one more time.  
>  [ ] Reunite with the others.


	15. Revival

**_The Pain_**.

Sharp. Stinging. Your side. It bleeds.

 _ **The Air**_.

It encroaches. Lightheaded. Queasy.

Why do you hurt?

You open your eyes.

 ** _The Darkness_**.

Can’t see. Where? How? Where is this place?

Person. Standing over you.

“H… el… lo?” you croak. The words barely come to you. Every movement is a struggle.

“Sssh, now,” the person whispers, shining a light on you. A man’s voice.

 _ **The Blood**_.

Everywhere. The walls. The floor. The table you lay on. Leaking from your chest. Panic sets in.

“Wh… what is this?!”

“Sssh. Don’t get worked up.”

The man forces a spoon into your mouth.

You involuntarily swallow the liquid.

The panic dulls. You feel sleepy.

“W-wait… not sleep… not ready… ”

“Clara, everything will be just fine. Rest well.”

Can’t open eyes. Too tired. Falling asleep.

Numb. Dull. Sleep.

\- - - - - 

You jolt awake. You grab at your chest, feeling for the blood, but find nothing. Under your nightgown, your skin is unscathed. You look around tensely, expecting the man to be there. A few panicked moments pass, but nothing moves. You are alone in the room. It was just a dream.

You relax. You appear to be in a bedroom. Beneath you is a queen-size bed, the mattress gently accepting your weight while still providing support. A dark pine grandfather clock sits nearby. Its pendulum sways, resounding a harsh [i]tick[/i] that gives every moment some weight. The time reads 8:50. The sun’s fingers of light reach into your bedroom through the window, indicating that it is morning.

The last thing you remember is talking to Flandre and Remilia. You had ultimately decided to follow them, but then everything had gone dark. The floor, ceiling, and walls of this room have similar architectural qualities as the study where you had first talked with Remilia. Did they notice and take you back to their home?

You throw back the silk covers and slide out of the bed. Your body feels good. Your injuries from the night before have healed and you’re filled with energy. Oddly, you don’t feel hungry. A human body such as yours still requires sustenance to do tasks, demon-possessed or not. Figuring the hunger will kick in later, you look around the room for any items of interest.

At the wall opposite the bed, a round table is covered with a few miscellaneous objects and a note. You read the note first.

 

> ~~_Hello there_ , I can see you’ve awaken  
>  Wait, that doesn’t make sense. I can’t even see you right now.~~ Okay, let’s start over  
>    
>  Good ~~morning~~   ~~evening~~ , Clara!  
>  I hope you slept well…? You seemed really tired. You ~~fell asleep~~  collapsed just as we were leaving, so we turned around and ~~b~~ picked you up.  
>  Anyway, if you’re up at daytime, Remi will probably be ~~asleep~~ resting. If you’re bored, you can come see me. ~~I sleep whenever, so you can wake me up or something~~   ~~Remi is cute when woken up, but also grouchy~~  Otherwise, feel free to leave the castle and explore, but make sure you come back to talk later. ~~I wish I could explore with you, Clara~~  
>  Oh, yeah, you can have all of this stuff. It’s dangerous to go alone, so… consider it a gift from me to you, ok?  
>  ~~Let’s put last night behind us~~
> 
> ~~Sincrely,~~   ~~Sinsurely,~~  Love,  
>  Flandre  
>    
>  p.s. Sorry for all the writing mistakes, Remi always tells me a lady needs to write properly ~~so~~ but I keep writing the wrong things…

Next to her name, Flandre left a simple self portrait.

On the table are a few objects of interest. The first thing to catch your eye is a dress. It is blue and white, a bit frillier and fancier than necessary, but looks comfortable. You change into the dress, leaving the nightgown on the bed. With it is a leather pouch attached to a belt, which you fasten to your waist. The pouch is filled with coins.

A simple dagger and sheath rests on the table. Seeing the weapon reminds you of your silver knife, which is nowhere to be found. Its disappearance is easily explainable: considering that this is the home of two vampires, it would not be wise of them to leave you unattended with a weapon that could be used to kill them. You feel a little concerned now that you no longer have an effective bartering tool, but you’re not entirely sure that it would have seen use anyway.

Your mind wanders to Caesar and the other hunters. Where are they right now? Surely not that far away, considering that they have two motivations to stick around: you are still separated from them, and Remilia Scarlet is still alive. You sheath the dagger and attach it to your belt.

The final object of interest is a small flask filled with yellow liquid. You open the cap and take a whiff. It smells alcoholic in nature. Why would Flandre have this? You pocket the flask despite being unsure of how it could be useful to you.

With nothing else in the room catching your eye, you step into the hallway. On the floor outside is a deep spear gash from the night before. You smile, the thought of you and Remilia fighting only a handful of hours ago filling you with whimsy. It feels like that fight had happened months ago, even though it’s only been one night.

> [ ] Explore the castle.  
>  [ ] See if there’s anything of interest outside.  
>  [x] It’s time to wake a vampire.  
>  \- [x] Flandre!  
>  \- [ ] ~~Remilia!~~


	16. Sleepyhead

You decide to check on Flandre. Her room is in the basement, near the wine cellar. It only takes you a few minutes to reach the end of the hallway and subsequently, reach the thick metal door that leads to Flandre’s room. Is this really where she sleeps? It seems a bit harsh. You’re not sure the practical purpose of her sleeping down here. Sure, with destructive power like hers, keeping her locked up could limit her potential for destruction, but couldn’t she just destroy the door anyway? Maybe she just likes it down here.

The door is heavy and probably immovable for a normal human, but you open it with little difficulty. The room beyond is very dark, so you wait for your eyes to adjust first. Ahead is a stone corridor. You walk through it, making note of how bady kept this section of the castle appears to be: the ground is covered in dust and grime, and the bricks that make up the walls are covered in cracks, gashes, and holes. Eventually, you reach another metal door, identical to the first. You can barely see at this point, but that doesn’t stop you from entering the room beyond.

It’s too dark in here. You can’t see a thing.

“Hello?” you whisper, hoping that this is Flandre’s room. An unfounded worry briefly crosses your mind that perhaps this is not Flandre’s room, but that of some sort of malevolent creature.

“Hnn?”

It’s a tiny, sleepy whine. Moments later, you are airborne, being held up by the collar of your dress. You grip the arm of your assailant with both of your hands, your mortal body’s primal fears overtaking you.

A series of crystals shaped like elongated octahedrons pop into existence around the two of you. They come in pairs, each pair a different colour. They emit light, letting you see again.

“Oh, it’s just you,” she says, relaxing her grip a bit. You hang on even tighter, noticing how long of a drop is below you.

“Good morning, Flandre,” you say. “Mind bringing us down?”

She sighs. “Yeahsurewhatever.” She floats down, setting you on the ground.

With the light from the crystals, you can take a better look at her room. A grandiose bed sits across from the door you just entered, complete with a canopy and an incredible amount of space. The ground is covered in broken furniture, toys, and other miscellania, including many dangerous objects such as unsheathed knives. It’s a wonder you entered this room without stepping on anything. Near the bed is a wardrobe that is missing its legs on one side, a desk that has a surprisingly well-kept surface, and a few cabinets that are more or less in one piece.

“Nice room,” you say, trying to break the ice. She seems a little irritated for some reason.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t have time to clean up. You shoulda’ told me you were coming.”

“Uh… you invited me.”

She blinks, her cheeks turning a light pink. “Oh, I did? Oopsies… Okay, let’s start over,” she says, clapping her hands. The room plunges into darkness.

You wait for something to happen. After a minute you hear her whisper from the opposite wall, “psst… You’re supposed to wake me up.”

“I can’t see.”

She snaps her fingers, causing the crystals to glow dimly and begin orbiting around you. You look over to Flandre laying in her bed, clad in a crimson nightgown, pretending to sleep. You approach the bed and whisper, “Good morning.”

She doesn’t react. You move closer. “Hey, it’s morning. Flandre?” You gently shake her shoulder.

Her eyes flutter open a bit _too_ theatrically. She fixes you with a sleepy grin. “Clara… You’ve come to wake me…!”

“Erm, yes.”

Flandre jumps to her feet, burying her face in your chest and hugging you tightly. The action forces the air out of your lungs.

“Hng…”

She hears your discomfort and loosens a little, but doesn’t release you. “It’s been a long time since Remi has come to wake me up…”

You smile, returning the embrace. “If you want a hug, Flandre, you just have to ask! You don’t have to try to bait me into it.”

“...Okay,” she whispers. She pulls back, face almost as red as her clothes. “Sorry. I know I’m weird.” She stares at her feet, nervously twiddling her thumbs.

“Sssh, you’re fine, Flan.”

She perks up at the nickname. “F-flan? Uh oh, now you’ve done it! You’re my other sister now, Clara. Sorry, it’s the rules, and I definitely made them! Wait, I mean, no, I didn’t make them. They’re a natural property of the universe. You have adhere to them now. Check and mate.”

“Well, if that’s how you want to think of me, sure,” you say. You find it hard to say no to her. “Oh, by the way, thanks for these clothes and other items.”

She nods firmly. “Yes, yes! Remi took your stuff so I had to replace all of it. It’s only right, y’know? Say, what do you think of that guestroom? I’ve never slept in there, I wonder if the bed is comfortable! Mine isn’t that comfortable anymore. I’ve ripped it up too many times. Hey, how come you can’t see in the dark?” As she talks, her voice slowly rises, and her posture becomes more and more open, her entire being clearly becoming more excited as her mind races ahead.

“I have human eyes,” you say quickly, trying to focus the conversation before she moves on again. You realize that the statement doesn’t make much sense, so you elaborate, “They aren’t as adept at seeing in the dark as yours are.”

“Human eyes?” She leans forward, mouth open slightly. “Aren’t you, like, a demon or whatever word Remi said? I can’t remember.”

“It’s a bit of a long story. The short version is that I’m borrowing this human body from the real Clara.”

“Oh! So Clara isn’t your real name? What’s your real name? Where are you from? Can we go visit that place? Is it fun there? Is it scary? Why did you come here?”

Your name is not really relevant to this world or its stories. You’ve never gone by your real name in other ventures, other contracts, so you see little reason to start now.

“Don’t worry about my name,” you say, “ ‘Clara’ will do just fine. By the way, what are these crystal… light things?” You gesture at the crystals in question.

“Oh! Those are my Cranberries! Well, they’re not actual cranberries, I just call them that,” she says, snapping her fingers. The “Cranberries” stop orbiting you and spread out around the two of you, floating in place. “They’re magic thingies. They can do a bunch of simple tasks like providing light. They store excess energy from my… my power.”

“I… I see.” She must be referring to her seemingly boundless destructive capabilities.

She quickly changes the subject. “S-so, what do you wanna do, big sis Clara?”

> [x] (Write-in)


	17. Castle Tour

Flandre’s question opens you to the plain of possibilities. With so many available actions you could take from this point, your mind is overtaken by ideas.

You ponder for a few moments, staring past her earnest smile. Your motive in this world is simple; learn more about Remilia and this world that you have found yourself in. Beyond that, you feel an urge to please Flandre’s wishes. Something about her innocence, seeped in her incredible abilities as a vampire, and the seeming neglect she experiences, makes you feel sympathetic to her. It is currently late-morning, a time when vampires (usually) sleep. This means that your primary motive -- learning about Remilia -- cannot be fulfilled. So, with nothing else to do, you are willing to act to the whims of Flandre. It is reasonable to assume that the most polite and friendly thing would be to return the question on her.

“I’m interesting in just about anything. What would _you_ like to do, Flan?”

She places a hand on her chin. “We should… Huh… I’m not sure,” she says, biting her lower lip. “That’s a good question.”

It dawns on you that she is probably just as unsure of what to do as you are.

“I mean, I don’t know if we have much to do in here...”

Aha, at her external ponderings, an idea forms. “Let’s go out into the castle, then. You can give me a tour!”

“S-see, I’m not supposed to leave without Remi’s permission,” she says, hanging her head.

Your lips curl into a wry smile. “I’m technically your sister now, so I can give you permission too,” you point out, tapping the side of your nose.

“Really? Well, okay. I’ll buy it,” she says, winking. “Let me get changed before we go.”

You wait outside her room for a few minutes. When she emerges, she is wearing a frilly red dress similar to yours.

“Where do vampires go to get clothes?”

“Do you think vampires and humans wear different clothes? We just get them at the usual places,” she says, setting into a confident stride down the hall.

“Where are the usual places?” you ask, following close behind.

Her buoyant gait deflates a little. “Maybe… maybe go ask Remi. I don’t do the shopping.”

You giggle. She keeps walking.

Soon the two of you have crossed the hall and exited through the large metal doors. As you move them, a question forms in your mind.

“Why do you live down here behind these metal doors?”

She frowns. “I’m too dangerous.”

The answer is not unexpected, but you’re unsure of how to respond. The two of your climb the stairs in awkward silence. Once you reach the top, she pauses, glancing down the hall that leads to the study where you first met Remilia. She sighs.

“These hallways are all the same,” she grumbles. “I can never remember which way the place I want to be is.”

You follow Flandre through the castle, meandering down labyrinthine halls and peeking into countless rooms. With each new room you two discover, Flandre explains to you the purpose of the room. She introduces to you studies, bed chambers, lavatories, pantries, kitchens, and many other miscellaneous rooms. Most of the rooms are filled with dust and worn furniture. Clearly, the castle is too big, with too much in it, for two vampires to manage on their own.

“Who built this castle?”

“I dunno. It was built a long time ago for a lord of this area. One day we showed up and ate him and his servants. We’ve been here ever since.” She speaks of the incident so matter-of-factly, but you can only imagine how gruesome it must have been. “Go where the resources are, right? Turns out living near a terrified human village has its perks.”

“So you’re used to receiving live tributes?”

She nods. “People are scared of Remi. They do whatever she asks for. It means we get to eat without having to do much work.” She shrugs, closing her eyes. When she opens them again, she rests her index finger on her lips, glancing up at you. “This is the first time one of our meals has become my sister, though.”

Hunger is a familiar feeling to you, regardless of what vessel you use. Every creature needs to eat. It is a bit unsettling that something so _humanlike_  -- a vampire -- is so open about using humans for sustenance, but without human blood, Flandre and Remilia wouldn’t survive. In a way, you are more similar to them than you are to a normal human; after all, you require a freshly-slain vessel in order to manifest in this world. A life for a life.

“Speaking of food, are you hungry?” Flandre says, breaking you from your thoughts. “Do demons need to eat?”

“We eat only to sustain the vessel we inhabit. So, if Clara the human is hungry, I’ll get hungry,” you explain. “I don’t particularly feel that hungry right now, though.”

“Hm. Okay. I’ve shown you most of the castle, so maybe we should do something else now?”

You approach a nearby window. By the position of the sun, you estimate the time to be somewhere in early afternoon, from 1-2 PM. It’s a bit early, but you consider waking Remilia. She hinted at an offer of some sort last night. You could also leave the castle altogether, taking Flandre with you, to explore the village beyond. If you give it more time, you could probably come up with even more things to do, too.

> [x] Time to wake up the “princess.”  
>  [ ] Visit the village.  
>  [ ] (write-in)


	18. Wake-up Call

Remilia’s room is on the top floor of the castle. The hallway that leads up to it is well-kept and well-lit; there are many ornate chandeliers along the ceiling, and the floor is blanketed by a scarlet carpet. In many ways, the path to the Scarlet Devil’s quarters is exactly the opposite of the path to Flandre’s.

“Kinda weird up here,” Flandre mutters, sticking close to you as you move down the hall.

“It definitely has a different atmosphere...”

Before long, you reach the mahogany double-doors at the other end of the hall. They’re almost three times your height; the doors’ sheer size emanate an imposing aura. Flandre grabs your hand. You look over your shoulder, smiling at her. She smiles back, a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

“What’s that look for?” you ask, cocking your head.

“Oh, nothing~ I’m just hoping she’s still asleep,” Flandre says, widening her grin and exposing her fangs. “I hardly ever get to catch her still asleep. It’s like she always knows when I’m going to wake her up… Well, I guess she does know that stuff all the time. Anyway, let’s go!”

You grab the handle and pull the door open. The interior of the room is grandiose. Red walls, red floor, red carpet, red bed, red furniture -- the whole room is red. The largest bed you’ve ever laid eyes on sits across from the doors, on top of which sits a coffin. The walls are lined with tall and imposing wardrobes, desks, cabinets, and other furniture. The room is immaculately clean.

Flandre pushes ahead of you, tugging on your arm. “Let’s goooo~”

The two of you approach the bed. The blankets and pillows are set in an elegant arrangement. It looks like the bed has never been used. You eye the coffin laying on the bed. It is made of mahogany and adorned by gold rims. A golden crest that appears to be a rose is in the middle of the coffin.

“My, my, what a nosy duo. Hasn’t anyone told you it is impolite to enter a lady’s room uninvited?”

You turn. Remilia Scarlet sits in the air near the doors, legs crossed, floating up at least five feet. She wears a simple white dress which is adorned by a bemused smile.

“S-sis! We just wanted to say hi and stuff!” Flandre stammers out, hiding behind you.

“Yes. Hello. What do you think of my castle, Clara?”

“It’s quite lovely,” you immediately lie, images of the dust and abandoned rooms flashing through your mind.

Remilia lowers her eyelids, amusement dancing in her eyes.  “I apologize for the mess. We try our best to keep things clean, but the castle is much too large for the two of us. It is remiss of me to have not hired a few servants by now...”

Flandre peeks out from behind you. “Hey, Remi, Clara is my new sister now! That means she’s your sister too!”

Remilia interlocks her fingers and rests her chin on her hands. “You two have gotten quite friendly since last night, haven’t you? My, how quickly we forget. Well, I suppose it doesn’t hurt.” Her eyes bore into you. “Tell me, Clara. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“Well, last time we spoke...”

You fall silent as she waves her hand dismissively. “Ah, that. All in due time, my dear.”

She floats down to the ground, gesturing to Flandre. “Flandre, we are going out for a walk. You will watch the house.”

“Aw, but sis--”

“No ‘but’s about it,” Remilia says. With her finger, she motions for you to follow her, and then turns and leaves the room.

Flandre sighs, defeated. “I’m always left behind. Okay. See you in a bit, Clara. Have a good walk, I guess.” She sits down at a nearby chair, pouting.

“Uh… Sorry. Bye,” you say.

\- - -

Scarlet mist surrounds her hand, shifting and morphing into a solid parasol. She steps into the sun, holding the parasol in an elegant and dignified manner. You recall that vampires, in the sun, burn up, and begin to wonder if a parasol is all she needs. It seems like a risky way to stay covered; what if a strong wind catches her off guard, pulling the parasol too far and exposing her skin to the sun’s rays? She must have a lot of practice with keeping a grip on it.

You follow her into the courtyard. The stone path leading to the castle is overgrown with weeds. The gardens are in similar disarray. Everything about the stone castle behind you seems uncared for and unwelcoming. If you didn’t already know about Remilia and Flandre, you would assume that the castle is abandoned.

A light breeze picks up. Remilia smiles. “It’s a nice day out. I feel an overcast coming.” She looks at you.

> [x] “With an overcast, I’ll be able to see your radiant beauty without the shadow of a parasol.” (Flirt)  
>  [ ] “So, can I call you ‘sister’ too?” (Joke)  
>  [x] “By the way...” (Write-in)  
>  [ ] “What about that ‘plan’ you mentioned?”


	19. Charisma Break

You look up at the sky as the breeze rustles your hair. There are clouds here and there, but you wouldn’t call it overcast, or anywhere close to one; however, given the certainty with which she speaks, Remilia’s ability to manipulate fate probably applies to weather patterns, too. She really lucked out in the supernatural powers lottery. Your gaze returns to her face, where she continues to stare, waiting for you to say something.

“With an overcast,” you say, lowering your voice, “I’ll be able to see your _radiant beauty_  without the shadow of the parasol.”

“H-huh?” she says, her cheeks turning a light pink.

“Is that a _vampire’s_  blush that I see? Have I reanimated your heart with my sweet words?”

“Sh-shut up!!” she squeaks. The boundlessly confident and charismatic lady before you suddenly disappears; in her place, a flustered young girl twirls her parasol nervously. She turns her head, pretending that her attention is being snatched away by an incidental bird or squirrel or other happenstance.

“Hmm, did I come off too strong?”

She takes a deep breath and returns her gaze to you, that familiar spark returning to her eyes. “On the contrary!” she exclaims, exposing her fangs with a wide grin. “I merely gave you the reaction you were looking for. Such a lecherous child you are, expecting a dignified lady such as myself to respond to your advances.” In only seconds, her charismatic demeanor had returned. You can’t tell whether or not her initial reaction had been an act, but your intuition says this is a simple lie to save face.

“If I’m being lecherous, why did you play along?”

Her smile shrinks a little. “Well, clearly, that is, obviously, I didn’t want to embarrass you. Consider yourself lucky that I am so magnanimous.”

“If you say so,” you say, winking. She rolls her eyes, but does not reply.

In the distance, you can see an army of clouds that cover the sky beyond. They still have a ways to go before they can cover the sun, but it seems quite ominous.

“By the way,” you finally say, breaking the silence, “Why did you tell Flandre to stay behind?”

Remilia shakes her head. “ _I_ wanted to talk to _you_.”

“I’m sure she would have appreciated the chance to be with her beloved sister.”

“She can talk to me anytime she wants. She’ll be fine.”

“...Are you sure?”

Remilia furrows her brow. “Let it be, Clara. We have bigger things to worry about right now.”

You decide to drop it, realizing you don’t have much of a say on how she and her sister interact. Even though they have invited you into their home and have gotten to know you to a certain degree, you’re still mostly a stranger to them.

You give her an affirming nod. “So, ‘bigger’ things?”

“I have an offer,” she says, switching her parasol hand. “That’s the reason I called you out here with me.”

“So… what is it?”

“A diabolic contract,” she says, fixing you with a hard stare.

“I’m listening,” you say. In spite of yourself, a smile spreads on your face. Her offering of a contract to you is unexpected. The thought of it amuses you.

She closes her eyes. “By whatever laws that govern your kind, I ask that you bind yourself to me and assist me in acquiring a specific artifact of my choosing.” She opens her eyes, somewhat dramatically. “My terms are simple: One; you may not harm me or my sister in any way. Two; follow my every command to the letter. Three; you must complete your contract with me before you complete the one with your previous Master. Four; you must complete these terms within one week of binding.”

The questions begin to set in. What is this artifact? Why does she need your help in acquiring it? Why is she only giving you a week? Her expectant gaze bores into you, but the questions keep on coming. You’re not sure where to begin.

Remilia chuckles. “You seem conflicted. I am willing to make amendments before you accept. What are your thoughts, Clara?” The parasol in her hand bursts into a cloud of smoke. You look up, realizing the clouds have already overtaken the sun.

> [x] (Write-in questions, amendments, etc.)  
>  [ ] Accept the contract.


	20. Amendments

You gaze beyond the hill where you and Remilia stand, watching the tiny humans moving to and fro in the village at the bottom. A strong gust of wind picks up, causing your dress to billow around you and your hair to float for a few moments. It sends a chill up your spine; you shiver involuntarily.

“I would like to make a few amendments,” you say.

She nods affirmatively. “I thought you might. I am sure I am missing a few details, considering I do not know the full scope of your contract with Caesar.”

You recall your prior contract.

 

> Task: Assist Caesar and his team in destroying a powerful adversary.  
>  Terms:  
>   1. You may not kill anybody unless Caesar gives you explicit permission.  
>   2. You may not inflict any pain on the bodies of Caesar or his companions.  
>   3. Before any other task, your first priority is to protect Caesar from any person, animal, or thing that intends him harm.  
>   4. If Caesar commands you to do something by name, you must do it.

For Remilia’s first term, you don’t feel like you need to harm Remilia or Flandre. Since Caesar never specified who this “powerful adversary” needed to be, it is possible to complete his contract without ever harming the vampires. You would just need to find an enemy of similar power to a vampire, which is no small task, but it is still a loophole you could use.

Remilia’s third term is of no consequence to Caesar’s contract; after all, she specified a time limit. This means you can follow her terms until her contract with you is complete and then return to assisting Caesar. He never specified a time constraint on his contract, so you could very well ignore his desires for weeks, or months, or even years, provided he does not perish in that time.

Her final term, the time constraint of one week, is not unusual, but you do wonder about the reason for a week specifically. Does she need this artifact so soon? Or is she simply trying to keep relations short for your sake, so that you don’t have so many contracts to worry about?

If you accept these terms, you will effectively be useless to Caesar until this contract is completed. This appears to be Remilia’s intent, anyway; the third term makes that very clear. When you spoke to her last night, she hinted at taking advantage of the fact that there was no time restriction in Caesar’s contract. This simple fact, and the fact that he did not exclusively bind you, makes it possible for you to accept her contract without outright breaking Caesar’s. The biggest issue presented here is Caesar’s fourth term. Since he can order you to do anything by name, you have an obligation to him already. If Remilia gave you an order that contradicted an order by Caesar, you would be forced to break one of the contracts.

You explain to her the details of your contract.

“Ah, I see…” she mutters, crossing her arms. “So, let me guess: you want a fifth term that allows you to break any of my terms should they contradict your previous contract?”

“That would be the simplest way to work with both of you, yes.”

“You definitely cannot break his contract, correct?”

“Affirmative.”

“Very well,” she says, resting a finger on her chin. “I will add this term. Was there anything else?”

“I think the fourth term is a little unclear,” you say. “Only a week? Why? Also, it is entirely possible I will be unable to complete such a time limit, should complications arise. I think it should be adjusted so that the contract becomes void on midnight one week from now, rather than requiring me to complete the task within a week.”

“I accept this adjustment,” she says, nodding. “I specified a week only so that you and I wouldn’t be stuck in this contract just in case things got… ugly. By the way, do you need permissions or anything? I’m not sure how to set those up. I don’t know the incantations.”

“No. The permissions of my previous contract will still apply, and since I have to complete your task first, there is no risk of me losing permissions.”

Both of you fall silent. You focus on the terms once more; after all, if you don’t pay attention to the wording of the contract, you might bind to a bundle of mistakes. Usually, this works in the favour of you, as in the case of Caesar’s unclear contract. However, there have been cases where sly diabolists have gotten more out of you than you intended.

“What about the artifact?” you ask, realizing that the “artifact” in the contract is unspecified. “What is it, and what do you need it for? The task you have given me is a little unclear.”

She goes silent for a long time. She looks concerned about something. “Well,” she says, “It’s an old book. A family heirloom, you could say. I must retrieve it from a thief.”

“Just a book?”

“It’s an important artifact. I need it back.”

“What is it called?”

“I don’t remember the name,” she says, frowning. “I only remember the front cover.”

> Task: Assist Remilia in acquiring a specific artifact that is in the shape of a book.  
>  Terms:  
>   1. You may not harm Remilia or her sister in any way.  
>   2. You must follow every command issued by Remilia, except for those that conflict with a previous contract.  
>   3. You must complete the task of this contract before completing the task of any previous contracts that you are bound to.  
>   4. You will make all reasonable efforts to complete the tasks given before midnight one week from binding. In the event that the task is not complete by that time, this contract will be null and void.  
>   5. If any of the terms of this contract conflict with a previous contract, they may be ignored in order to satisfy the previous contract.

> [ ] These terms are acceptable.  
>  [x] (Write-in further questions, amendments, etc.)


	21. Returned Serve

You consider the rune on your right hand. It consists of a hexagram surrounded by a circle. Along the edge of the circle is an inscription in an ancient diabolic language. Single characters are written inside smaller circles that are placed inside the hexagram. The rune is blue and light reflects off of it like wet ink. You idly play with your hair with your free hand, intertwining a strand around your index finger. Remilia watches your movements like a cat watching a mouse in the grass.

In terms of following the contract’s logic, it all checks out. Caesar’s contract, while somewhat limiting, has a lot of holes in it that allow you to follow Remilia’s amended terms with little difficulty. Despite this, something is missing; her terms seem too formal and business-like. You feel the desire to work in something that will embarrass her a bit. She has no control over you yet, and she clearly needs your help, so you have the bargaining power here. You figure that you may as well take advantage of it.

“I have one more thing to add,” you say, placing a hand on your chin in an exaggerated manner. “Your commands have to be worded in the form of a very polite and sincere request.” You hold a poker face, resisting the urge to let out a cheesy grin.

She squints at you, clearly not amused. “What purpose does that serve?”

“How else will I know you love me?”

“Y-you don’t need to know silly things like that! I just need you to follow my orders!” she blurts out, hands balled into tiny fists. Her reaction only entices you to tease her more.

“Hey, be honest with yourself. You _need_ me and my skills. Let’s add this last line and I’ll help you out,” you say, holding up your hands. “These hands were made to please the beautiful and the elegant.”

She pouts, puffing up her cheeks. “D-don’t be weird!”

“C’moooon, do you want my services or not?”

“F-fine,” she whispers. She takes a deep breath, regaining composure. “I, Remilia Scarlet, will add this term to the contract on one condition. If we presume that every command I give is kept track of by an invisible counter, every odd-numbered command requires that I give out the command in any wording I please.” She smiles at you, one eye closed.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by her returned serve. You expected her to agree to your amendment simply because you would refuse otherwise; however, her adding a rule to your little game was unexpected. Maybe she’s more fun than you initially gave her credit.

“So, every ‘odd’ command is worded at your discretion and every ‘even’ command is super polite and sincere?” you clarify, letting your grin finally show itself.

“Yes. You like games, sweetheart? I’m happy to play by your rules if you’ll play by mine,” she says, lowering her voice. “Do we have an agreement?”

 

> Task: Assist Remilia in acquiring a specific artifact that is a book. The book will be identified by Remilia, who can recognize the front cover.  
>  Terms:  
>   1. You may not harm Remilia or her sister in any way.  
>   2. You must follow every command issued by Remilia, except for those that conflict with a previous contract.  
>   3. You must satisfy this contract before completion of the task(s) of any previous contracts that you are bound to.  
>   4. You will make all reasonable efforts to complete the terms and commands given before midnight one week from binding. In the event that this contract is not complete by that time, it will become null and void.  
>   5. If any of the terms of this contract conflict with a previous contract, they may be ignored in order to satisfy the previous contract.  
>   6. Supposing that there is a conceptual counter that increments by 1 every time Remilia issues a command, each even-numbered command must be spoken in the form of a polite and sincere request, whereas each odd-numbered command may be issued in any manner of tone or wording.

> [x] These terms are acceptable.  
>  [ ] (Write-in further questions, amendments, etc.)


	22. New Mistress

Perhaps Remilia is more than she seems. Not only is she humouring you, but she’s _adding_ to your playful term. You admire the attempt to make the contract a little more fun. In your many experiences with diabolists and contractors, you have seen hundreds of lifetimes of dry, business-like contractors. Will she keep to the “polite wording”, though? The term seems concretely worded to the point of not being negotiable, but you’re no stranger to contractors trying to weasel out of similarly concrete terms.

Even if she tries to work around some of these terms, you don’t have much to lose. This contract leaves you with a lot of freedom. The fact that it will automatically end in one week means that if Remilia tries to manipulate the contract’s terms, you can simply find ways to stall out her commands until the week is over. While you’re prepared for that possibility, you feel that Remilia won’t go that route. Her willingness to accept your “fun” term shows that she is willing to be a good sport.

“I swear to complete the task you have commanded of me while upholding the terms you have given,” you say, the familiar words rolling off your tongue. “ **Let it be recorded that we are in a pact, until the task is successfully completed, one week has passed from this date, or one of us perishes.** ”

You feel a rumble from no particular direction; you recognize it to be a rumble in the fabric of the universe, directed at the two of you and your new contract. A binding rune appears on the back of your left hand. The rune is a symbol of your contract; the same rune also appears on Remilia’s hand. Unlike Caesar’s binding rune, it is as red as blood, and the shapes and symbols that make up its form are different.

“Wonderful,” she whispers, stroking the rune with her other hand. She smiles at you. “Thank you. I’ll be going back inside. Flandre will need to know what we’re planning to do.”

She heads back to the castle. You follow close behind, seeing little reason to stay out here. You exchange a few words on the walk back. She asks you general questions about contracts, continuously fingering the rune on her hand. Before long, the two of you are back inside the throne room, with Flandre eagerly waiting near the door.

“How’d it go? What’d you talk about?? Can I help???” she says, bouncing up and down.

“Flandre,” Remilia says, thoughtfully biting her lip. “We are going to the city to retrieve something of mine.”

“The city, huh…” she says, frowning. “Is that… is that ‘all of us’ we, or… ‘just you and Clara’ we?”

“...The latter,” Remilia says somewhat solemnly. She takes Flandre’s hand, looking into her eyes. “This is a dangerous mission. I can’t put you at risk.”

Flandre shakes her head. Her side-ponytail sways wildly, at the complete mercy of her exaggerated movements. “But I want to help!!”

“I’m sorry, Flan. This is for the best.”

The ponytail droops. Flandre sighs, her posture and mood completely deflating. “Yeah… okay…”

You approach, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. She looks up at you, confusion etched into her face. You smile. “When we get back, I’ll do something fun with you, okay?”

A light smile. The ponytail sways up and down as she nods. “I’ll… I’ll hold you to that, big sis Clara!! Come back safely so that we can play!” She hugs you, though at her height her arms only reach your waist. You glance at Remilia. She smiles warmly, giving you approval.

“Come on, Clara,” Remilia says, gesturing to the door once Flandre releases you.

You raise your eyebrows. “Wait, we’re leaving _now_?”

“Why not?”

“I would think we need to prepare, or something...”

She laughs. “I already have everything I need,” she says, holding up her glistening rune-hand. “Besides, I want to leave before the rain hits. We only have a week, so we best make the most of it~”

Flandre watches quietly as the two of you exit the castle.

You feel the familiar weightlessness from your time flying with Flandre as Remilia picks you up at the waist and takes to the sky. The cold air blows against your face, chilling you to the bone.

You feel bad for Flandre. It seems like she is left to her own devices fairly often. No wonder she seems to enjoy your company so much. Of course, Remilia’s concerns about safety are valid, but is Flandre really at risk considering how much power she has? As a vampire, she has a lot of weaknesses, but surely her incredible powers can overcome any weakness? Remilia mentioned going to “the city”... Maybe she just doesn’t want to cause a ruckus? Flandre seems like the type to stir up trouble wherever she goes.

“So… you mentioned ‘the city’?”

“Ah, yes. My castle is very far from most human dwellings, so we refer to the closest city as ‘the city.’ ”

“What’s it actually called?”

“Pff, I can’t be bothered to remember such trifling details.”

The clouds that Remilia “forecast” are getting thicker and thicker. It definitely looks like it could rain soon. The countryside goes on for miles in every direction, only broken by the dark castle you came from. With little to do in Remilia’s arms but think, you consider a topic to bring up.

> [ ] “What do you know about the city?”  
>  [ ] “Who took your book in the first place?”  
>  [ ] “Why is this book so important?”  
>  [x] Write-in


	23. Flight

“So… Why leave Flandre alone with the risk of Caesar and his vampire hunters returning?”

“It won’t happen,” she says without skipping a beat. “I have a ‘feeling’ that they won’t be meeting Flandre anytime soon.”

She must be referring to her thus far vaguely-defined powers over fate.

“Are you sure? Is it worth the risk?”

“Risk? Do you doubt my abilities?”

Indeed, she speaks quite confidently about future events. It is jarring to hear her speak in this way. Most beings of temporal linearity (that is, one who experiences time in a linear sequence of “now”s) are restricted to merely predicting how events will unfold. With these predictions is an ever-presence sense of uncertainty. For Remilia, it seems like this uncertainty does not exist. Aside from other demons, the only beings you find that approach future events in this way are clairvoyants. However, unlike a clairvoyant, Remilia has a degree of control over these future events.

“I suppose you’re right. I just have trouble understanding how it all works,” you admit.

“It will unfold rather nicely. Just wait and see.”

“Does that include our upcoming mission?”

She doesn’t respond. Did she not hear you? You repeat the question a little louder.

“Well. In the city, there are too many variables to attend to at once. I can’t guarantee it will go my way.”

Finally, a limit to her ability. You assume that by “variables”, she means people, creatures, and events (such as the weather). If there are too many variables, she has less control. Surely, then, with so much familiarity and so little variables to manipulate in the castle, Flandre is completely safe. At least, that’s what you tell yourself; there’s not much you can do about the situation now, so you need all the self-assurance that you can get.

Ah, is that… is that a personal attachment that you feel?

_Your brother smiles. It’s a smile you’ve missed. He envelopes you in a tight embrace._

_The adrenaline from your escape still rushes through your veins. You take a deep breath, attempting to calm down. “Brother…”_

_“Are you okay?” he asks, releasing you. He looks into your eyes with an intense concern._

_“Yes. I think.”_

_Your chest still throbs where your wounds had been. Somehow, the wounds, despite being undeniably mortal in nature, had sealed up._

_“I’m just glad you’re safe. I won’t let them take you ever again.”_

“Clara?”

Information rushes into your brain from your senses. The cold air. The dizzying vertigo. You snap back to attention at the sound of Remilia’s voice.

“Hey, you’re losing it. Don’t faint on me.”

You open your eyes. “Oh. What happened?”

“You tell me. We were talking and your mind wandered. Everything okay?”

“Yeah… Just lost in thought, I suppose,” you say. You’re not sure if you want to tell Remilia about the vision. You recognized your “brother” in the vision; you had a brief glimpse of him when you first met Remilia. These must be remnant memories that had belonged to your vessel, the real Clara.

“Hmm. Anything interesting come to mind?”

You can tell that she’s bored. There’s a tad too much eagerness in her tone for such a casual question. Equally bored, you throw out something you had been pondering earlier.

“I was just wondering about this book. Since you enlisted my help, I presume that obtaining the book will require a great deal of effort beyond your own abilities. If you are willing to go to this much effort, you must value this book greatly. Therefore, I must wonder; why is this book important?”

“Ahaha. An astute analysis,” she says. She pauses, quietly _hmm_ ing to herself. “In the pages of the book are a great power. ‘Grimoire’ might be a more appropriate term for the artifact. If it were to fall into the wrong hands… Well, it would ensure a lot of destruction on this continent. I seek to prevent that.”

“So you want it to keep it from being misused?”

“Exactly.”

Huh. That’s not what you were expecting. For someone as allegedly corrupt as she is (if you go by Caesar’s words), her intentions seem quite philanthropic. It is possible she is just lying to you about her intentions, but what would that accomplish? You’re already in contract with her. Though, she could be trying to win your favour so that you’ll be more loyal. For now, you’ll hold that possibility in the periphery.

“If it’s so dangerous, couldn’t you have ‘fated’ it to come to you in some way? Or for those that stole it from you to have failed in their attempt in the first place?”

“That would certainly have made it easier for me. Unfortunately, the grimoire is much too ancient for me to manipulate. The complexities surrounding its history would take me centuries to unravel. Hence why I need you.”

“I see. Well, I’ll do my best.”

She tightens her grip on you a little bit.

After that, conversation becomes small talk. You discuss things like the technology and politics of the time (always a useful thing to know when you’re in the business of hopping between time periods), Remilia’s favourite literature (“I find religious texts to be quite illuminating into the human perspective”), the weather (“it’ll start raining soon, but we’ll have landed by then”), Flandre (“I wish I could have brought her along”), your experiences as a demon (which involved your vehement refusal to explain to her what humanity will be like in the next millennium), and other such topics. During this, the landscape below offers nothing beyond the boundless farmland and a few scattered human settlements.

Eventually, you see “the city”; it is a sprawling mass of brick buildings built next to a winding river. Even from so high up, you can spot the forms of humans and horse-drawn carriages moving in the streets. Remilia descends near a road that leads into the city. When she releases her hold on you, you immediately lose your balance and fall to the ground due to the sudden weight of gravity. She covers her mouth, hiding a giggle.

“You’re supposed to be a big scary demon, but you can’t even handle a bit of flying.”

“Hey, blame my vessel. I still have human instincts and a human sense of balance. If Caesar had used a bird or something, I could out-fly you any day.”

“I suppose. You wouldn’t be able to say much as a bird, though,” she says, hand on her chin.

You shrug. “Sometimes I like being quiet.”

She laughs.

“So, what’s next?”

She raises her arms. A cloud of scarlet mist surrounds her. When it disperses a few moments later, she is wearing a thick black robe. The hood is up, hiding her hair and casting a shadow on her face.

“They’ll recognize me easily without a disguise. I’m somewhat infamous, you know,” she says, placing her hands on her hips and raising her chin proudly.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Anyway,” she says, dropping the pose, “let’s get into the city.”

The two of you follow the road. Surrounding the city is a tall brick wall. When you reach the gate, a tall, somewhat top-heavy gate guard approaches. He wears simple armour and holds a pike, which he does not point at you. He scratches his moustache, eyeing the two of you.

“State your business.”

Remilia smiles. “Hi, we’re just enterin--”

“I said state your business,” the man growls, clearly unamused. “And make it good. You’re a couple of suspicious characters if I’ve ever seen ‘em.”

Remilia opens her mouth, but you step forward, preemptively deciding whatever lie that she is about to spew will end in failure.

> [x] “Ah, fair gatekeeper! Thank you for all your good efforts. We are just mother and child, returning to our home.” (Charisma)  
>  [ ] “We are here on official business. We intend no harm.” (Dignity)  
>  [ ] “Let us through and we won’t start something right here, right now.” (Intimidation)  
>  [ ] Elbow Remilia ~~for some coin~~. (Bribe)  
>  [x] Write-in


	24. Information

A lie rises to the forefront of your mind. A lie so simple, and yet, so utterly perfect. A lie that will accomplish the immediate goal of satisfying the gate guard while also fulfilling your personal quest to embarrass Remilia.

“Ah, fair gatekeeper!” you begin, spreading your arms wide to indicate openness and hospitality. “Thank you for all of your good efforts.” You give him a wide smile. “We are just a mother and child, returning to our home.”

He frowns deeply, but raises one eyebrow, his face becoming an expressive concoction of annoyance and curiosity. He strokes his moustache, saying, “Why did you leave town?”

Again, Remilia opens her mouth, but immediately closes it upon feeling your hand on her shoulder. You pat her affectionately, smiling at the gate guard once again.

“This silly child decided to sneak into the wilderness to be ‘surrounded by the darkness rivaled only by the blackness in my soul’...” you trail off for dramatic effect. When you continue speaking, you apply full deadpan to your words. “A bit of a melodramatic poet, this one. Pay her no mind; she’s in a phase. You know how teenagers are.”

He guffaws, the sound loud and unexpected given his prior expression. His outburst quickly drops to a chuckle. “Heh heh. My daughter’s the same way.” He nods stoically, regarding you with a new hint of respect. “Very well. Go on through. And make sure you stay with your mother from here on, hmm?” He direct the last comment at Remilia. All you hear from her is a soft _hmph_ , which prompts another guffaw from the guard.

The city seems grander from inside it than from the air. Impressive brick buildings line the roads going in several directions from the gate. Down one road, you see an impressive cathedral.

Remilia elbows you. “It’s only sunset. How am I ‘surrounding myself in darkness rivaled by the blackness in my soul’?”

“You just snuck out, waiting for nightfall. I’m a good mother and noticed you leaving, so I followed.” You try to catch her eye, but she avoids your gaze. A light blush coats her cheeks.

“I don’t care for the story you concocted, but I admire your ability to improvise,” she admits, finally returning your gaze.

“Thank you, my dear daughter,” you say, winking.

“You’re impossible,” she says, shaking her head. “Let’s get a move on.”

“Where do we go next? When is the part where you desperately try to look cool and elegant in front of the thief, while I stand nearby looking threatening with a beautiful blade in my hand?”

“That is quite the vivid image you’ve conjured,” she says, ignoring your attempt to tease her. “Before anything like that, we have to track down the thief first.”

“How?”

“I know someone.” She bites her lip and furrows her brow, contemplating some unpleasant memory. “A bit of an oddball, but he has a complicated web of information in this city. If anyone here can track down the thief, it’s him.”

“Lead the way.”

The two of you move down the street, Remilia in the lead. Despite the sun setting on the horizon, a decent number of the population continues to move to and fro in this area of the city. It appears to be a commercial district; on each side of the road are shops, inns, and other businesses. Each time a horse-drawn carriage passes by, Remilia sighs in what you can only assume to be envy. (“Such simple desires, this one,” you mutter just loud enough for her to hear. She “accidentally” stomps on your foot.)

She leads you to a pub called “The Hole”, gesturing for you to follow her inside.

The floorboards creak beneath your feet. The air is filled by a strong scent of wine. Despite the lack of windows, the pub is well-lit due to the entourage of lamps on the walls and tables. Various people fill the pub, appearing to be members of the upper middle- and high-class margins of the population. A thickset woman stands behind the counter, preparing a few drinks. When Remilia enters, a few suspicious stares turn her way. In true Remilia fashion, she holds her head high and ignores the stares, making a beeline for a specific table with three men sitting around it. You follow close behind her.

You can’t help but feel like you’re interrupting something at the table. A short bearded man seems completely at ease while the other two men look uneasy. Without hesitation, Remilia sits at one of the empty chairs, hands in her lap. You stand at her right shoulder, playing the part of the impartial and stoic servant.

“Salutations,” she says, nodding to the bearded man. The other men grow more agitated by her appearance.

“Who are these characters?” one of them says, glaring at the bearded man.

“I can answer for myself, thank you,” Remilia says, flashing a fake smile. “I am simply another customer.”

“Well, you should wait your turn, kid.”

“Monsieur, ‘tis only sunset. There is plenty of time for me to attend to each of you before the night’s end.” The bearded man’s deep, velvety voice and light French accent snatches away your attention. He regards Remilia, smiling. “It has been a long time since we have met. How may I help you?”

“I require information.”

“Aha. Very well. Let us discuss this in a more private setting, hmm?” He stands up.

The other two men at the table tense up. “Hey, we were here first!”

“And you will be here when I get back,” he says without a hint of malice. “Please follow me, Mademoiselle.”

He leads the two of you into an extra room near the tender’s counter. Inside is a desk nestled between two chairs. The man waits for Remilia to sit, then joins her from the opposite side of the table. As before, you stand by Remilia’s shoulder, watching the man’s movements carefully.

He gives you a once-over. “I don’t believe I have made your lovely acquantance, Madame. You may call me Jean. Might I hear your name?”

“This is Clara. She is assisting me for today,” Remilia answers for you.

“I see. You are quite beautiful. It is a great pleasure,” Jean says, looking into your eyes intently.

“Likewise,” you say, holding your poker face. You are no stranger to being leered at by humans; it comes with the territory of assuming a human form.

“Mademoiselle Remilia,” he says, interlocking his fingers and resting them gently on the table. “You have not visited me in a long time. I wondered if some aspiring hunter had gotten the better of you.”

Remilia laughs. “Don’t be absurd. Besides, if that had happened, you wouldn’t have to wonder. We both know how easily information comes to you.”

“Mm, that is why you are here, no?” he says, chuckling.

“...Indeed. We require information.”

“Well, you know how I work, Mademoiselle. Information does not come free.”

Remilia huffs lightly. “I am well aware. What do you want to know this time?”

Jean catches your eye. He smiles. “I would like Madame Clara to tell me about herself.”

Remilia nods, keeping her gaze on him. “Clara, please indulge Jean.” You feel a prickly sensation on your rune, indicating that under the contract, her words come as a command. Jean wants information about you? With such a vague word on Remilia’s part (“indulge”) it is difficult to determine what she means. Does she want you to tell the truth about you being a demon? Some of the truth? An outright lie? If this man is truly as connected as Remilia has implied, there is a possibility that what you tell him will make it to other ears. Still, if the information you provide isn’t interesting, will he even accept it as “payment”?

> [x] Lie  
>  [x] Tell the truth


	25. Magnifique

“Well, you know how I work, Mademoiselle. Information does not come free.”

Remilia huffs lightly. “I am well aware. What do you want to know this time?”

Jean catches your eye. He smiles. “I would like Madame Clara to tell me about herself.”

Remilia nods, keeping her gaze on him. “Clara, **please indulge Jean**.” You feel a prickly sensation on your rune, indicating that under the contract, her words come as a command.

Very well. A devious thought dawns upon you.

There is a simple way to tell _some truth_ whilst also embarrassing Remilia, yet again. (This seems to have become your personal mission as of late.) You briefly ponder the possible reactions. Jean seems to be a good-natured fellow and might appreciate your attempt to rattle the Scarlet Devil. Surely, the worst that could happen is that the two of them tell you to stop joking around.

With so little risk, you go for it.

“I’m a young maiden from a nearby town, sent before Remilia one night,” you say, interlocking your hands behind your back and smiling sweetly at Jean. “When we met, I was awe-stricken by her elegance and her beauty! That was truly a night I’ll never forget.” You take in a deep, satisfying breath. “Remilia was so intense and passionate that night. She was so powerful and forceful, that I could not sleep for many an hour, until I collapsed from sheer exhaustion. The following morning, Remilia propositioned me and now our souls are bound together in a promise stronger than any on Earth.”

The room falls silent. You resist the urge to look at Remilia, keeping your gaze steady on Jean’s face. His toothy grin did not falter during your story, and even now, it remains unchanged. He leans forward, fixing Remilia with his gleeful stare.

“Quite the jester, this one, eh?”

“Yes,” she responds, frustration edging into her tone, “an extremely silly girl.” She continues to stare straight ahead.

“Madame Clara, let me tell you what I know about you,” he says, smile disappearing. He sits up straight, holding out one finger. “You have a diabolic rune on each of your hands, so it is clear to me that you are a part of at least two diabolic contracts.” He holds up a second finger, furrowing his brow lightly. “Mademoiselle Remilia possesses a matching rune on one hand, so you must be contracted to her.” He holds up a third finger. “If your story is based on some degree of truth, I conclude that you went to meet Mademoiselle, under contract, and during your stay, you entered another contract with her.” His smile returns. “Do I paint an accurate picture?”

“You’re a perceptive one,” you say. “If you could piece that together on your own already, what did you want from me?”

“I wonder of your origin. There are not many creatures bound by such runes, so are you… _a demon_?”

You involuntarily look at Remilia, but she’s still looking at Jean, ignoring your stare.

At this point, he knows so much, so you see little reason to withhold your identity. Even with that knowledge, what could he possibly do to you? You’re nearly invincible and have few stakes in this world.

“You are correct. I am a demon.”

He claps his hands excitedly. “This is truly a lucky encounter! I have yet to have met one of your kind, Madame Clara. Please explain to me where you come from.”

“I am from a reality beyond this one. A world and a time so vast and different from yours, and yet, also quite similar. This body--” you hold up your arm, pinching the skin, “--is merely a vessel. A human corpse that I was summoned into.”

“Magnifique!” he says, clapping again. “A beautiful and poetic creature, you are, Madame Clara. To be so powerful, and yet, forced to serve mankind.”

“Or vampirekind, as it may be,” you add, looking at the back of Remilia’s head again.

Remilia ignores your quip. “Does this information satisfy you?”

“Oui, oui. What is the information you seek, Mademoiselle?”

“I’m looking for a book.”

“What do I look like to you, a bookstore? There are many books out there.”

“It’s a special book. A grimoire.”

“Hmm,” Jean hums, placing a hand over his mouth in thought. “Can you draw the cover for me?”

He opens a drawer sitting next to him and pulls out a piece of paper and a quill. He hands them to Remilia. She takes them wordlessly, setting the quill to the paper, and sketching the shape of a book. Along the spine, she draws a line of crosses. In the center of the cover, she draws a large closed eye. As she sets down the quill, you find yourself stuck staring at the eye.

_Your brother holds up the depiction of the grimoire. Even though it’s just a sketch, the eye on the cover seems lifelike; it’s as if it could open at any moment._

_“That’s… the book you’re after, brother?”_

_“Yes,” he says, nodding at the drawing. “When we get the real thing, we’ll be able to get back at them. We’ll be able to get back at everyone.”_

_“It seems… scary,” you say, shivering._

_“Don’t worry, Clara. It’s dangerous, but it’s still just a book.”_

Jean picks up the paper, breaking you free from yet another one of Clara’s memories. You’re used to retaining some memories from your vessels, but never before have they been so intrusive.

“Ah. This is a grimoire, oui?”

“Indeed,” Remilia says, crossing her arms. “It was stolen from me by a young, rash man. I was wondering if you had any information as to its whereabouts, or the whereabouts of the thief.”

“I do not know the location of this grimoire or the one who stole it,” he says, stroking his chin as he studies Remilia’s depiction. “However, I do know somewhere where you may find more information.”

“Oh?”

“I must not speak of its name, or else its caretaker will be able to hear us,” he says, pulling a fresh sheet of paper from the drawer. He begins to scribble something down, continuing to speak as he writes, “It is a hidden libr… _book repository_ in the city. The caretaker is very good at tracking down rare grimoires. If anyone knows where your book is, it’s her.” He finishes writing and hands her the paper. “Here are the directions.”

“Hm. Very well. Thank you for your assistance, Jean,” Remilia says, rising to her feet and pocketing the paper.

“It was a pleasure,” he says, looking at you with that toothy grin again. “Please, feel free to visit anytime, Madame Clara.”

“We’ll see if I have time between contracts,” you say. He chuckles.

The two of you leave the pub. The sun has already set by this point. As soon as you enter the open night air, Remilia grabs your wrist and pulls you along. You are not expecting the move and almost lose your balance as she leads you into a nearby alleyway. She turns towards you, pulling harder on your arm so that your face is forced down to her level.

“ **Please refrain from embarrassing me in front of business partners in the future** ,” she says in a gentle tone. You feel the rune on your hand prickle again as her request takes its hold on you. “You are an amusing servant, but you must know when it is appropriate to speak as friends and when it is not,” she says, an edge seeping into her voice. “I put a great deal of effort into maintaining my reputation among humans. Count yourself lucky Jean respects this reputation enough not to spread misinformation. If you had damaged it there...” She trails off. “...Things would not go well for you.”

She definitely sounds threatening, but her eyes… They seem… Worried? Scared? Is it about her reputation, or something deeper that she’s not telling you about? She holds you there for a few moments, trying to read your expression.

> [x] Write-in  
>  [ ] I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend you. I’ll keep the jokes to situations where they are appropriate.  
>  [ ] I was just messing with you, and I think that was obvious. You shouldn’t worry so much.


	26. Understanding

The hold on your wrist is firm. You can feel the strained flow of reanimated blood through the veins in your arm and hand. The tips of your fingers are licked by the onset of numbness and your muscles strain against the force of her grip. You ignore these sensations, training your focus on the girl before you. As you stand there, back arched forward and neck tilted upwards to meet her gaze, you feel an unspoken resemblance between her nature and your own. The strength held by her betrays her small, childlike form. Further, the look in her eyes is anything but childlike. Like you, she knows the curse of one whose essence is not accurately represented by the form one takes. She is a vampire, an immortal hunter of human beings, forced by her very existence to take the form of her prey’s own young. To such a being, reputation is the only defence against appearances.

“Very well,” you say softly but with conviction. “I will do as you say. I will refrain from embarrassing you in front of your business partners.” Your words are rigid. Not cold, not warm, but firm. Beneath your words is a bubbling sense of disappointment. You understand her reasoning, but invoking her contract in this scenario is a bit off-putting. Nevertheless, it is a stark reminder that you are a servant in this situation. You were so caught up in the friendly banter that you had forgotten that fact. Perhaps the greater curse of this form of existence, greater than that of you being a visitor in your own body, is the bubble of servitude that pervades your every move.

Her expression softens and she releases your arm. You feel a slight throbbing in your wrist as blood rushes in to survey for damage. You make a mental note that the grip of a vampire should not be underestimated. You return to your usual posture, spreading relief through the muscles in your back. She glances at your wrist, looking almost apologetic now.

“Thank you,” she mutters. She says it so quietly that you fear you had imagined it. “Thank you,” she says again, still quietly, but loud enough for you to be sure you heard it this time. Her voice and lips are clearly inexperienced with the phrase. She stands there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to say next.

“Let’s take a look at those directions,” you say, ready to move on.

She nods, seemingly thankful for the subject change. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the paper Jean had handed her before you left. The direction are specific, clear, and concisely written out in a set of bullet points with a curly script you would describe as “jovial.” She studies the directions for a few seconds, then slides the paper back into her pocket. She steps toward the exit, but immediately comes to a halt, her face clouded in thought.

“Jean noticed our runes, so I will hide them,” she says. Scarlet mist flows from her fingertips. The mist flows in a wave pattern, much like the slithering of a snake. It encompasses the entirety of your hands, forming a pair of thin leather gloves over each. The mist then targets her left hand, where the rune sits, and climbs upwards above her own head. In a few seconds, the mist has formed a glove for her and an umbrella. She nods to herself satisfactorily and steps past you into the street.

As you leave the alleyway, you notice the sun has finally set. A thick layer of clouds blocks the light of the moon and stars, casting a shadow over the entire city. The nearly deserted street is a far cry from the bustle you had seen before you had originally entered _The Hole_ only twenty minutes ago. You hear a distant rumble from the clouds, promising rain. As if in response, Remilia taps the handle of her umbrella with her free hand.

To know the weather with such certainty… Remilia’s gifts are amazing, though you wonder what sort of rules bind them. You continue down that train of thought for a few minutes, your imagination soaring. You are pulled out of your musings by rain, which begins to unceremoniously pour from the heavens. Unfortunately, Remilia is too short to hold the umbrella above the two of you, the droplets scattering over your hair and face.

She notices, and holds the umbrella handle out toward you.

“Hold it for both of us, please,” she says. No reaction from your runes; it’s not a request bound by the contract, but forcing her to do so every time would be silly and might even breed contempt. Similarly, asking you to do everything by way of contract would show she doesn't trust you. Perhaps wisely, she has kept this request open to intuition and goodwill.

You comply. She nods appreciatively as you take the umbrella, holding it between the two of you so you are both kept out of the rain. With her hands free, she pulls the Jean’s note from her pocket again, scanning through it for the next directions. The two of you walk like that for some time, her pointing out what turns to take, with you obediently holding the umbrella in place. It dawns upon you that, as a creature that is evaporated by rain, she is placing her trust in you to hold the umbrella for her.

You wonder if perhaps, you should break the silence…

> [ ] Talk about her abilities. “How does that mist work?”  
>  [ ] Talk about her history. “How do you know Jean?”  
>  [x] Write-in topic  
>  [ ] Sometimes silence is peaceful. Just keep an eye out for now while Remilia is focused on the directions.


	27. Reputation

You watch her for a few moments, the locks of her hair lightly bobbing with her footsteps. Her gloveless right hand holds Jean’s paper. After making note of the next direction, she pulls the paper to her side, gripping it tightly and looking up ahead to survey the area. For a long time, the only sounds you hear is the muffling ambience of rain and the clopping of your and her shoes on the wet cobblestones. This... is peaceful, and yet, your aching curiosity rises to the forefront of your mind again, threatening the silence.

You let it have its way. “Hey, mind if I ask a question?”

She looks up to you, expression neutral. Her attention seems distracted by the directions in her hand. “Sure.”

The importance she places in her reputation bothers you. She’s a vampire. A hunter of humans. Assuming she does not care for them, the fact that she puts so much effort into moderating what they think of her is odd. If she does in fact _like_ humans, it seems better if she put effort into _improving_ her reputation. Currently, all her reputation seems to do is attract vampire hunters and contempt. The mechanics of her reputation, and how she values it, are a mystery to you. “Why do you care about your reputation?” you ask sincerely, though somewhat bluntly.

She furrows her brow, staring ahead again. “Well. I suppose a being of your nature wouldn’t understand it so easily,” she says, without accusation. She’s right. You rarely have to stay in one time period or location for long. Even then, you usually let your contractor decide on your name, so no one would be able to recognize you between contracts anyway. You know some demons like to use consistent names, building a reputation slowly over decades or centuries of diabolic contracts. That life is not for you. The only reputation that applies to you in this world is the collective reputation of your kind.

“My reputation was carefully crafted over decades of stories and rumours. The Scarlet Devil. A vampire of power and influence. Many dare not even mention my name, for fear of their words reaching my ears,” she says it all, to your surprise, without a hint of gloat or pride. The words are cold and factual. The honest truth as she understands it.

“But,” you utter, as she motions to her right, leading you down another street, “that sounds overwhelmingly negative. Fear leads to contempt, doesn’t it? If I made you sound funny or approachable, wouldn’t that improve things for you?”

She shakes her head. “I do not want to be ‘approachable.’ I am a predator, and they are my prey. We do not mix. That is the natural order of things.”

It’s a curt answer for a complex problem. You respond with equal curtness. “Have you tried?”

Her voice softens. “In all of your travels, have you ever heard of a friendly vampire?” Truthfully, you have not. Vampires have an unshakeable reputation within humanity for selfishness, tyranny, and evil. “They don’t exist long enough to be heard about. Eventually, fear of what is different will lead to destruction, and such a creature will be forced to fight back or perish.”

You’ve seen it before. A witch, hunted for her magical prowess. A child, sacrificed for being left-handed. Even many of your own contractors, being diabolists, have been destroyed or chased down by humans driven mad by their own fear. For humans, it is easier to erase what they do not understand than it is to try to understand it.

“Humans can barely tolerate their own kind. They invented warfare to wipe each other out,” she continues, motioning to take a left. “That very invention could destroy me. The only weapon I have to prevent such a thing is my reputation. I can harness their fear. If humans believe I am unapproachable, they will not approach me. Those few who dare can serve as a warning for the rest.”

Her words are chilling. It is rare that you get the chance to speak to a being that is not human; her viewpoint is somewhat exotic by comparison. Humans generally value the lives of other humans, but to Remilia… they’re just another animal. You’re not particularly attached to them as a species, but you know they have value beyond that of an ordinary animal. No animal can invent concepts and tools at the rate humans can. No animal can become a diabolist aside from humans. They are often irrational and single-minded, but they are the reason you exist.

“Thank you for the explanation,” you finally say, not really sure how to respond. You have so little experience with reputations that you feel unqualified to comment on her philosophy. If it works for her, then you’ll leave it be. You at least appreciate the insight into her worldview, however exotic it may be.

The two of you continue in silence. The downpour shows no signs of stopping. The city’s many streets are labyrinthine, a seemingly endless array of stone and brick architecture. You do notice a few bystanders on the trek, usually soaked head-to-toe and running with purpose, though some slow to glance at the cloaked duo sharing a large red umbrella. You make it through to your destination without incident in about an hour.

It takes you a few seconds to realize that this is indeed your destination. Between two abandoned buildings is a tight walking space. It can easily fit a person, but the umbrella is too wide. Remilia glances at the umbrella, then pulls up her hood and adjusts her robe, hiding as much of her skin and hair as possible. She waves her right hand, causing the umbrella evaporate into nothing. Wordlessly, the two of you proceed single-file between the buildings.

“Whatever you do, don’t turn back,” she says.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. The space between these buildings seems to go on forever; you cannot even see the end, and as per Remilia’s instruction, you dare not turn back. Based on the streets that led you here, you are sure this endless passage does not reflect the actual layout of the city, but rather, is the work of a magical safeguard. This “book repository”, as Jean called it, is certainly a well-hidden place, which means that ordinary people are probably not welcome. You hope the coming encounter with its caretaker goes smoothly.

It takes you about half an hour of walking through this endless passage until you see the end of it: a tall stone brick wall. A dead end. Or, it occurs to you, another reality-bending safeguard.

“May we enter the Library?” Remilia says to the wall.

A few moments pass. Then, a low rumble echoes out from the wall. The bricks on the wall move and contort, forming a crude face with a mouth and two pupil-less eyes. The rumble grows louder, but soon, you begin to make out words within the rumbling. The brick mouth begins to move, forming syllables and words. “ **BEFORE YOU MAY ENTER, YOU MUST PROVIDE. WHAT WOULD YOU SACRIFICE FOR KNOWLEDGE**?” The voice is deep and crackles like a landslide. It is as if an avalanche, or the very earth itself, were speaking to you.

“Sacrifice?” Remilia repeats, surprised. “Jean didn’t note anything about this…”

“What kind of sacrifice?” you ask the face. Its empty eyes seem to stare right into your very essence.

“ **A PART OF YOUR VERY NATURE. EXAMPLES. YOUR SIGHT. YOUR RATIONALITY. YOUR STRENGTH. YOUR MAGICAL GIFTS. THESE, OR ANYTHING ELSE YOU WISH TO GIVE UP. FOR _EACH_ GUEST WHO INTENDS TO ENTER, ONE SUCH SACRIFICE MUST BE MADE.** ”

“That seems a bit steep,” Remilia protests, taking a step back. “Might we pay in some other good?”

“ **THE LIBRARY HAS NO NEED FOR EARTHLY GOODS. MAKE YOUR SACRIFICE OR LEAVE MY SIGHT** ,” it says with finality. The gaze of the stone is cold and unfriendly. It does not trust you and is filled with expectation.

> [x] Make your sacrifice. (Write-in what you would give up.)  
>  [ ] Force your way in.


	28. Library

The wall towers fifteen to twenty feet over you. Its “face” is grotesque in the way it breaks the uniformity of the stone bricks that make up the wall. The “eyes” are simply gaps in the wall; no light shines through, leaving only two dark slots that seem as though they could suck you in. Its “mouth” is curved in a sharp frown. It waits, silently, for your response.

Its request is odd to you. You have never heard of magic that could inhibit or remove a part of one’s nature. Such a magic would be incredibly complicated and take a lot energy to uphold for vast amounts of time. If this wall is not lying to you, then the caretaker of this place is very powerful. You glance at Remilia for any signs as to what she may be thinking. She returns your blank stare, apparently just as unequipped to deal with this situation as you are. She wants this grimoire. She needs it. Does she need it badly enough to give up a part of herself, potentially forever?

“I have an idea,” you tell her. You don’t have an idea. You’re just hoping to relieve her worry.

“I’ll let you go first, then,” she says.

Her eyes are on you. Anything will do, really. Would its magic affect you past the lifespan of this body? You’ve never encountered something in these lower realms that could influence your true self. Though, there are many types of magic you do not know or understand, a sinister part of you whispers.

There are plenty of “easy” things to give up -- senses, or a personality trait, but _you can do better than that_. You pride yourself on being an expert “magic lawyer”. Your kind has verbally sparred with humans for hundreds of years, building and modifying contracts within very specific wording in order to allow for loopholes. It’s not that you have a rational reason to outsmart a contract; it is simply amusing. You are generally an honest demon and will do your best to follow the needs of your contractors, but as is evidenced by you being here with Remilia instead of Caesar, your personal interests sometimes take precedence and when that occurs, almost nothing can stop you. A simple brick wall guarding a library? It has nothing on your experience.

The examples it gave as parts of your nature -- strength, magic prowess, and so on, are generally seen as positive and valuable. It never specified, though, that the thing you must give up must be something you value. You could easily give up something that weighs you down, such as your weakness or limitations. Things in this world that limit the scope of how you may act; these are just as much a part of your nature as your strength or your sense of taste. However, this wall did say “one” sacrifice. It is likely it will protest to giving up just a blanket of “my limitations”. Just to be sure, you poise a question, “Would you accept more than one sacrifice?” Remilia blinks, confused.

“ **I WILL NOT TAKE MORE THAN ONE PER PERSON,** ” rumbles its response, as predicted. To avoid angering it, you will not suggest it take _all_ limitations, but there is certainly one right now you would rather live without.

“I would give up my inability to enter the library.”

Its frown deepens. Silence. Just as the pause reaches the minute mark, its grimace curls slightly, turning gleeful. It speaks again. “ **A CLEVER RESPONSE. YOU BOTH MAY ENTER.** ”

“Wait, what about my sacrifice?” Remilia says, not convinced.

“ **YOU WOULD JUST GIVE UP THE SAME THING, WOULD YOU NOT? I AM NOT SO STUPID TO ASK YOU FOR A SACRIFICE AFTER HEARING THAT,** ” rumbles the response.

You hear her mumble very quietly under her breath, “touché.”

With the conversation over, the wall begins to change. To an overture of earth and brick cracking and sliding, the bricks contort and move again, clearing away the face and opening into a tunnel. A row of torches springs to life on each side of the tunnel, illuminating a dark red carpet and walls that match the stone brick of the entrance. A staircase leading down interrupts the tunnel about five metres in.

The two of you step into the tunnel. After a few seconds, you feel a tug on your sleeve, and turn down to see Remilia’s face. Her expression is soft. “Thank you. That was… well done.”

A compliment from the Scarlet Devil. You’re not sure what to make of it. “It’s in my nature to outwit humans, vampires, and walls alike,” you respond. She rolls her eyes, but it’s more playful than annoyed.

~ ~ ~

Eventually the staircase ends, leading you down another dim hallway like the one at the entrance, except the tunnel stops at a pair of large mahogany doors. You reach them and slowly, gently, pull them open to reveal a spectacular sight.

The ceiling is incredibly high; at least 100 feet, you estimate. You can’t see a wall in either direction -- they’re blocked by countless rows of mahogany bookshelves that extend in all three directions away from you and the doors. These bookshelves are filled, from one side to the other, with books of various coloured spines, thickness, and heights. Floating along these shelves are thousands of small crystals (similar to Flandre’s “cranberries”) that keep the library well-lit. Some books float freely without a shelf, but they move with purpose. Others slide out of place on a shelf and move over to another. It’s as if the library itself is alive.

“Wow,” you hear Remilia utter beside you. “This is amazing.”

“You are the 3497th person to say that,” says a flat voice. Next to one of the bookshelves is a pale woman who looks to be in her mid-thirties. Donned in thick purple robes and a strange hat that is a cross between a nightcap and a wizard hat, the woman regards you with an air of importance. Her eyes snap between the two of you quickly. She leans on a staff with a large gem encrusted in the top. You’re not sure how you missed her when you came in; although, her frail and unassuming form may have played a role. She looks like a mere breath could knock her over.

“You’re--”

“The caretaker of this library, yes,” she says. “I am Lavender Knowledge. Magician, scholar, caretaker of the Great Magic Library, and your host for today.”

“It is a pleasure, Miss Knowledge. I am Remilia Scarlet, and this is my servant, Clara.”

“Ah, the Scarlet Devil. Your reputation precedes you. I am honoured to have such an acclaimed guest visit the library.” The words are flattering, but her tone is completely lacking in expression. “What would you like to check out?”

“I am searching for a book, but it is very unlikely that this book is in your possession.”

She raises her eyebrows lightly, though the rest of her face remains flat. “You are the fourth to ever suggest such a thing. I am intrigued. Let us discuss in a more comfortable place.” She turns around and hobbles off.

Remilia smiles to you and saunters after Lavender. You follow.

~ ~ ~

The library seems endless. Rows and rows of shelves like those at the entrance, only a few metres apart, in all directions, for as far as you can see. The library is suitably lit by those crystals you saw before. Once or twice, you see areas that contain no crystals, leaving them in darkness (“Do not approach those. You may not survive.”). Lavender speaks very little throughout the trek and her gait is slower than yours. You lose track of time.

Your destination is a large clearing among the shelves furnished by desks and chairs. The desks are barely recognizable as such; each one is covered in books, in-progress documents, and various utensils such as writing implements, beakers, and compasses. She steps past the desks and settles into a seated wooden chair. She waves her staff, and two other chairs levitate over, settling in front of her. You and Remilia sit. A few moments pass, Lavender unmoving, her face as flat as ever.

“Tell me about this book.”

Remilia hands her sketch of the grimoire to Lavender. “It’s a grimoire. It was stolen from me a number of years ago--”

“You _owned_ this?” she says, knitting her brow. For the first time, there is an edge to her voice. “Are you, perchance, a diabolist?”

“No,” Remilia says. It’s technically true. She may have a contract with you, but she’s not the one who summoned you, and likely does not even know how to do such a thing on her own.

Lavender stares for a while, trying to read Remilia’s expression. The latter is firmly locked in a calm poker face. In all of your time with the Scarlet Devil, you get the sense that bureaucratic meetings such as these are when she is in her true element. The amusing thought arises: you’ll break down the walls and she’ll talk you both out of the resulting trouble. The perfect team.

“It’s a family heirloom,” Remilia offers. “My parents owned it.”

“Were they diabolists, then?”

“I do not know. They perished while I was still very young.”

Lavender’s brow laxes. “I see. I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, but it was decades ago.”

She takes another glance at the sketch. “My apologies for prying. If you do not know, this grimoire is very ancient, and has quite a history within magician society. Its roots are primarily diabolic in nature.”

“You seemed quite interested in the possibility of me being a diabolist,” Remilia says.

Lavender nods. “I am not fond of diabolism. I was worried I had let an enemy into the library.”

You resist the urge to react. Her stance is not unexpected, though somewhat disappointing. Throughout history, human and non-human magicians alike have shunned your kind and the craft associated with it. From what you have gathered over the years, this stigma stems from the use of the recently deceased as vessels and the dangerous nature of demons. The reputation of your kind is that of evil, fickle beings that would destroy entire towns or cities if not kept in line. Controlling such demons takes a great deal of skill; this is something that most diabolists lack, so the craft takes the brunt of the reputational damage. You make a mental note to proceed with caution. It would not be good to leave any tells that you are a demon.

“Rest assured, I am no diabolist, nor do I associate with them,” Remilia says, smiling. “My motivations in this are purely preventive. My family has kept the grimoire safe for a long time, but it was stolen from me by a young and foolish thief. I wish to take it back so I may prevent its misuse, as my parents have done.”

“I see...” Lavender raises a finger to her lips, lost in thought. “It has been long thought lost to history, but if you are telling the truth, the guardianship of the Scarlet family would be an adequate explanation for why none have located the grimoire.” She blinks, her blank stare returning to its dominant reign on her face. She leans forward toward you. “Clara, was it? Your response to my door was very interesting. What is your background?”

“She’s just a peasant girl I have enlisted as my servant,” Remilia responds for you. You steal a glance at her; her face still an unreadable wall. Is Lavender trying to get a read on her through you?

“Ah, I see,” she says, leaning back. “Where did you meet this servant?”

“Just in a town near my castle. This is somewhat off topic, though,” Remilia says, her tone sharpening.

“You are correct. My apologies.” She stands up, shuffling over to a nearby desk. She rummages through papers and books for a few moments. You look at Remilia for guidance. She simply regards you with a stern expression that you take to mean, _be careful_.

“Ah, here it is,” Lavender says softly, turning back to you two with a large book under her arm. On her way back to her seat, she trips. She grabs your hand as she falls and catches herself.

“Oops, clumsy me.”

In one swift motion, she pulls your glove off, exposing the bright red rune that belongs to Remilia’s contract. You freeze with immediate trepidation.

“ _I see you are not all that you say you are, Clara_ ,” she whispers, brow furrowed and voice filled with malice. “Or should I say, _demon_?”

> [ ] Lie. It’s the only way out of this.  
>  \- [ ] (write-in; how convincing the lie is determines the success)  
>  [x] Defend Remilia. Her safety comes first.  
>  [ ] Attack Lavender. She’s not expecting it.


	29. Plasma

From an impartial point of view, you’re in an amusing situation. A demon from another realm, summoned by a boy who seems to have just barely reached adulthood and given the task of hunting a vampire. Befriending that vampire, you are now assisting her in tracking down an ancient and powerful grimoire supposedly shunned by the magic community. In this search you’ve traveled to a well-hidden and ridiculously large magical library that is under the watch of a powerful magician with a hatred for diabolism and demonic entities. It sounds like something a whimsical person would write in their spare time.

Lavender’s grip pulls you back to reality. It is tense, but it still feels very weak. She is not a very physically capable magician. Still, to watch over such a large space seemingly on her own, she must be powerful. Her gaze is the only thing remotely tough about her; there’s an intense distrust in her eyes as she looks into yours. Feeling a bit annoyed by her aggressiveness, you pull yourself from her grip and onto your feet. You estimate she is only an inch or two shorter than you, but her hat makes up for the difference.

Remilia stands, placing a hand on your other shoulder. “My servant is a fan of the occult. This is--”

“This is no mere tattoo, if that is what you are going to say, _Remilia Scarlet_.” Remilia frowns at the interruption.  The hostility in Lavender’s voice is an unusual shift from her standard tone deaf cadence. “This is a diabolic rune. A contract. You are a diabolist.”

“I am not.”

Lavender does not respond. Her feet lift into the air as she begins to levitate. “I should never have let you two in here. I will be sure to rectify this mistake.” She flips open the book in her hand, reciting an incantation from the page inside. Fire and plasma flows out of her staff like liquid, pooling into the air above her in a sphere.

You grab Remilia’s hand. As you both begin to rush off the way you originally entered from, a large ball of plasma flies in your direction. You slide out of the way as it fires past, hitting one of the desks and exploding. Paper is sent everywhere and the air is filled with the smell of sulfur and ash. By now, Lavender’s chanting has stopped. Her sphere of plasma, a few metres across, follows her in the air above. It looks like a miniature sun and is almost too bright to look at.

{ BGM: <https://soundcloud.com/thejorlosopher/magic-scholar-the-librarians-study> }  
~ _Magic Scholar ~ The Librarian’s Study_ composed by myself ~

Another set of plasma balls break off from the miniature sun, arcing towards you and Remilia. You pull on her arm, leading her between a set of shelves to cut off Lavender’s view. The projectiles scream as they speed past behind you. You hear a distant explosion. Even though you are already quite far from Lavender, the heat is intense.

“Let me... _carry us_ ,” Remilia gasps out, her short legs having trouble keeping up with yours. You slow enough to let her grab onto your waist and you start to fly. Lavender just rounds the corner. Her sun, too large to fit between the bookshelves, breaks into several smaller suns that float around high above her head. Seeing you two in flight, she waves her staff, calling forth a magical burst of energy that sends her towards you. She’s catching up.

She fires another barrage of plasma projectiles.

“UP!” you shout. Remilia follows the direction, but one of them hits your leg, instantly evaporating it up to the knee. You scream, the scent of burning flesh filling your nostrils. “She’s gaining on us!”

Remilia grabs your hand. “Use this.” A spear, her spear, made of pure energy appears in your other hand. Then, she lets go of your waist, holding you only by your arm. It’s a dangerous and somewhat terrifying position -- several dozen feet in the air, dangling on the arm of a tiny vampire girl, being chased by an angry librarian with five balls of pure _sun_. Still, you have Remilia’s spear. Trying your best to ignore the pain in your leg, you raise your arm, aiming carefully. Lavender notices your newly-formed weapon and fires a line of plasma bullets at you.

At the last possible moment, you swing to the left, the projectiles just grazing past. The heat is unbearable. The light is intense. Squinting so your eyes don’t melt in their sockets, you hurl the spear with all of your might. Lavender swerves out of the way, but unknown to her, you weren’t aiming for her. The spear sinks into one of the mini-suns and it explodes. Lavender notices just in time and pulls up her arms, a translucent barrier appearing around her to block the plasma. She slows to a stop, trying to contain the plasma that is now erupting out of the sphere. With that opening, Remilia turns down another fork, and then another.

~ ~ ~

Before long, you’ve escaped the heat and the brightness of Lavender’s magic. Remilia gently floats you down to the ground. Wordlessly, she crouches to inspect your leg. As she lifts what remains of your skirt, the wound enters your sight and you involuntarily wince. Where your knee should start, the flesh ends. The heat from Lavender’s projectile cauterized it immediately, so it’s not bleeding, but it doesn’t look healthy. You recall your wounds from your battle with Remilia -- those healed in a matter of minutes, if not seconds, but this wound hasn’t even begun to heal. Then, you notice: there’s a set of dimly lit cyan lines curled around your thigh. They’re similar to the binding runes on your hands.

“It’s an enchantment,” Remilia whispers, gently tracing her finger along one of them. You can barely feel her touch through the burning pain. “I… can’t tell what it does.” She rises to her feet, gritting her teeth.

“Damn it… _damn it_!” She slams her tiny fist against the bookshelf nearby, knocking a few books to the ground. “That bitch. She didn’t even let us explain ourselves… I couldn’t even have fought back against that attack. It was sun magic! What am I supposed to do against _that_? I’m a vampire!”

You watch her silently as she throws her arms into the air. This is a new side of her; the composed and elegant woman you know reduced to a frustrated tantrum. Lavender’s attack came as a shock. Given how quickly things had gotten out of hand, she likely was not expecting such hostility upon first entering the library. Indeed, you recall her expressing her discomfort with the lack of information Jean had prepared for her even at the entrance.

“Clara,” she says, her voice struggling to maintain composure. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix this.” She runs her fingers through the air, as if trying to break invisible cobwebs around her. She tightens her hand into a fist and pulls it close to her chest. A series of red strings are tangled around her fingers. They’re taut and go a metre or so away from her before disappearing, the other end of each string unseen.

Are these... strings of fate?

“What are you going to do?”

She doesn’t look up. Opening her hand, she inspects the various strings. “I’ll make sure she gives us the information we need,” she mutters.

> [ ] Let her continue. Her power will make this much easier.  
>  [x] Convince her to stop. She doesn’t have all the variables yet -- it could be risky.
> 
> After that,  
>  [x] “I think we can negotiate with Lavender. I can show her Caesar’s rune and explain you aren’t the diabolist who summoned me.”  
>  [ ] “We should explore the library, keep out of Lavender’s sight, and find the information we need ourselves.”  
>  [ ] “Let’s just get out of this place. We can find another way to get ahold of the grimoire.”


	30. Caution

Her breathing has slowed, her shoulders relaxing. The rush of battle seems to be subsiding for Remilia. She stares intently into her hand, a devilish grin slowly spreading on her face. It’s an expression of cruel glee, one that betrays the feeling of knowing she will get all that she wants. It reminds you of Caesar’s own sinister smile.

You have to stop her. Even if she’s beginning to think more clearly, she’s acting too quickly. This use of her powers is driven by her frustration, and with that frustration comes the potential to overlook an important detail. You’re not completely sure how her ability works, but you know it’s quite complicated, and based on past conversations, greatly dependent on the variables she has to work with. What all of these “variables” are, you do not know, but you can’t shake the uneasy feeling that she doesn’t have enough of them in this current situation.

Using the shelves behind you to leverage your weight, you rise to your remaining foot. You follow along the bookshelf, coming up next to Remilia. She looks up, surprised by your movement. “You shouldn’t overextend yourself,” she says.

“Don’t do anything rash.” You reach out, placing a firm hand upon her shoulder.

She glances back at her own hand nervously, then pulls it closer to her chest, shielding it from you. “This is not rash. My ability is highly calculated.”

“And highly complicated,” you respond, struggling to keep your tone neutral through the pain of your leg. “You said yourself while we were flying out here that if there are too many variables in a situation, you have less of a guarantee that things will go your way.”

“That… is true...” she mutters, frowning. “But… I need to do _something_! I can’t just stand idly by and let us be destroyed by a crazy magician.”

At her words you realize that, at the root of this, she is scared. She has no control over Lavender. She’s not at her castle, where she has advantage of the home terrain. For one so accustomed to being in control due to her ability, this can only be a nightmare for her.

“You feel powerless,” you say matter-of-factly. The words give her pause, but she nods slowly. In front of you, you see a small, terrified girl, and the urge to hug her suddenly crosses over your mind. It’s a very human urge, one that is driven by the chemistry of the vessel you inhabit. You stand firm against the feeling. You usually make a point to resist your vessel’s urges when they come to you.

Instead, you say with determination, “Let me talk to Lavender.”

She looks at you, worried. “She’s unstable. She almost killed you.”

Remilia concern is not misplaced. There are alternative plans that have crossed your mind, such as searching the library yourself for the information you need, or just leaving altogether and finding Remilia’s grimoire some other way, but both of these are flawed. The library is incredibly large and labyrinthine in its organization. The chance that you will find the information you are looking for while also avoiding an angry librarian who can harness the power of the sun is slim. Outside of the library, you two have no sources on this book. Lavender’s knowledge is the best bet you have at this point. It may be a foolhardy plan that ends in your demise, but it’s all you have at the moment.

“I believe I can get through to her. There are more details to this situation that she doesn’t know yet,” you say. It’s the truth. Remilia is not actually a diabolist, and you are not a demon looking to destroy Lavender’s work or anything of the sort. Honest and detailed explanations may yet remedy this situation. You hope.

“Do you think those details will change her mind?”

“They’ll have to,” you say, the doubts in your mind making themselves known through your uneasy tone.

“If you die, I will use everything that I have at my disposal to make it out of this situation,” Remilia says grimly. “I’ll also… be really upset. So please refrain from dying.”

There’s that urge again. Meddlesome. “I will do my best, Miss.” You’re not sure why you used a title instead of her name. She quickly glances away.

...After a few quiet moments, she relaxes her hand, the strings sliding off of her fingers and fading into nothing. Some time soon, you’ll have to ask her for details about her ability. It’s very interesting to you, since you have never encountered a being with such a power in the past. There is also, perhaps more importantly, the benefit of knowing more about her abilities and limitations for when you have to kill her. If it comes to that.

With her vampiric strength, Remilia pulls a shelf out from one of the bookshelves and adjusts its length to suit you as a makeshift crutch. It’s crude, and a bit too thick for comfort, but it at least serves its function. The two of you make your ways back to Lavender.

~ ~ ~

The journey is short. You get lost a few times, but nevertheless, you find Lavender quickly by keeping an eye out for the radiance of her magic. She is flying overhead at an accelerated pace, and nearly misses you as a result. When she notices, she slows to a stop and floats down to only ten feet off the ground. Four of her five suns are missing; you only hit one earlier so you assume she dispelled the others, perhaps for ease of use. Nevertheless, the remaining sun is still incredibly bright and hot.

“I see you’ve come hobbling back, demon,” she says, pointing her staff at you menacingly. The sun behind her seems to flare brighter in response.

“We are not here to fight. Please, let’s have a conversation,” you say, shielding your eyes.

“To what end? So you might manipulate me into sparing your dangerous existence in the material plane? I have nothing to say to one of your kind.”

“Then as a fellow being born of this plane, let me speak,” Remilia shouts, stepping in front of you. She pulls the glove from her hand, showing the diabolic rune. “It is true that I am in contract with this one, but I am no diabolist. Please allow us the opportunity to explain ourselves.”

She speaks in a respectful yet firm tone. She stands tall and her wings unfurl, stretching out as far as they can, like an owl puffing out its feathers. In the overpowering light of Lavender’s sun, the creature of the night before you, Remilia Scarlet, manages to evoke a expression of surprise in Lavender. Her eyebrows raise slightly and her lips part, overcome by interest in the sudden commanding presence that has appeared before her. She lowers her staff. The sun behind her shrinks and shrinks, until it’s barely larger than her fist. Along with its size, the light it radiates dims, comparable to that of a (much more manageable) lamp.

“Out of respect for your family and its ancestry, I will listen to you speak, Miss Scarlet, but if your words are not sufficient to quell my worries, I will destroy your demonic ally,” Lavender says, her voice slowly returning to its usual flatness.

Remilia nods. “Very well.”

She explains how you met, your current contract, and how you both came to Lavender in the first place. She mentions Caesar briefly but glosses over the confrontation with him and neglects to mention that you almost succeeded in killing her. You try to help with the explanation by adding a few minor details here and there, but Lavender hushes you. She watches you carefully throughout Remilia’s explanation, her distrust made clear. When Remilia finishes, you all remain silent for a while, Lavender’s gaze remaining on you as she considers the story.

“Miss Scarlet, I would like to see the other rune you spoke of,” she finally says. “Don’t move, demon.”

Remilia steps towards you. You hold still as she removes your remaining glove that hides the blue rune of Caesar’s contract. Lavender looks at it for a few moments, her face clouded by intense thought.

“I acknowledge the likelihood of this story, but the risk is too great for me to trust you. You could very well both be working for this ‘vampire hunter’ you spoke of. You are too dangerous to spare. I have no lasting qualm with Miss Remilia Scarlet, so should you be destroyed, you may take comfort in the knowledge that I will not harm her.”

“Wait. You don’t need to do this, Miss Knowledge,” Remilia blurts out, her commanding presence faltering. “Surely we can come to some sort of accord.”

An accord… That gives you an idea.

“Unfortunately, there is no accord under which I can trust this being. I am sorry.” Lavender raises her staff again, the plasma orb behind her crackling.

Your mind is racing. An accord. No demon, no matter how sinister, can wilfully breach the terms of their contract. That means, if you could convince Lavender to bind you to a diabolic contract, she should be able to trust you. You don’t lose anything in death, as “death” would only mean the destruction of your vessel, but to disappear after coming so far would  be a shame. If you can somehow convince Lavender not to destroy you, you could remain with…you could carry out your contracts.

Of course, you’re already in a couple of contracts. Acquiring any more than that could make this messier than it needs to be. You could instead try to fight her. With Remilia at your side, surely you can defeat the magician.

> [x] Propose a diabolic contract  
>  \- [ ] Genuflect. (show respect)  
>  \- [x] Stand tall. (command respect)  
>  [ ] Fight your way out.


	31. Conflict of Interest

You close your hand into a fist, staring at it intently. Since Caesar summoned you, you’ve neglected to tap into your own magic. He did grant you use of it in his permissions, but so far, you’ve had very few opportunities to use it. If you concentrate, you can feel the pulse of magic around you like a heartbeat. To a human village, your magic prowess would be considered dangerous: you can start fires with a snap of your fingers, control water, and a few other elemental tricks. To powerful being such as Lavender or Remilia, your magic is not very impressive, but it’s better than nothing; you can still fight, and with Remilia’s assistance, you have a fair shot at winning.

However, your concern for Remilia’s survival grows. You’re only in this situation right now because you spared Remilia’s life. You wanted to gather more information on her -- get to know her and understand her, to know for sure if Caesar is in the right. It’s not exactly your _job_ to determine who is morally “right.” You are a tool to be used, and nothing more. Nevertheless, your displeasure in Caesar’s naiveté and your interest in the vampire siblings and their place in the world have had their combined effects on you. Caesar, while your original contractor and technically the number one priority, is something of a nuisance at this point. Remilia, and her sister, on the other hand, you find yourself feeling protective over.

You look Lavender in the eyes. Her fury is almost as hot as her magic. She really seems to hate you. She hates your kind. It was perhaps unwise to try to reason with her in the first place, but it is too late to go back now. It seems like the only nonviolent option you can take at this point is to bind yourself to a contract with her. It’s risky, and dangerous, but if she accepts, this whole situation will be much easier to deal with. Otherwise, she will eviscerate you from this plane of existence, and you will never get to see how this all turns out. With this truth hanging over your head, your actions feel sluggish. Your legs feel heavy. The pressure is getting to you.

“Con...” the word is almost foreign to your leaden tongue. “...Contract.” What was a complete thought in your head is uttered in a single word. It is difficult to formulate a sentence in this dire moment. A few agonizing seconds pass, and your articulation returns to you, “bind me to a contract.”

Lavender gives pause, lowering her staff and glaring at you. “ _What_... what did you say?”

She’s hesitating. You have a chance.

With newfound determination, you attempt to stand up to her, crutch and all. You adjust your posture; straightening your back, spreading out your shoulders. If you must die, you refuse to die in mere passive acceptance. Slowly and non-threateningly, you hold your fist up in her direction, for emphasis.

“Bind me to a contract,” you say, opening your hand. The hum of magic around you begins to flow through you like a conduit, releasing itself from your palm. A light gust of wind flows out, causing hair and clothes to billow for all three of you, but doing little else. It’s not meant to hurt anyone, but to add to your display. “If you cannot trust me, bind me to a contract and I will be forced to follow your terms.”

“Clara?!” you hear Remilia’s exclamation of surprise to your right, but you ignore it.

Lavender regards you suspiciously, her expression cold and calculating. “What benefit would that be to me over simply destroying you?”

“What is it that you want?” you ask, halting the magical wind. “I can help you achieve it, and you can add terms about how I may treat you and your library, so you won’t have to fear me.”

The corner of Lavender’s mouth turns up slightly. “There is one thing for which I could find some use out of you, yes...” she trails off, watching you two quietly. She pulls a piece of paper from her pocket and drops it, a gust of air flowing from her fingertips to place it in your hand.

It’s Remilia’s sketch. The grimoire you are bound, by contract, to help Remilia retrieve.

Remilia notices. “What do you mean by this?” she says, gesturing at the paper.

“I want your demon to, after obtaining this grimoire, and your contract ends, bring it back to me, so I may set out the necessary precautions to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands again.” Lavender delivers her explanation with a poker face, her tone once again empty from any emotion.

Remilia furrows her brow. “That… that is unacceptable. The tome belongs to my family. How can I trust you will not misuse it?”

“I have the same concern for you, Miss Scarlet,” Lavender says. She looks at you again. “Regardless, the decision is up to your demon. Since such an action will not be required until your contract is complete, there is nothing you can do to prevent it.”

“I can prohibit Clara from accepting, under the terms of _my_ contract,” Remilia says, fixing you with a stern look. She hasn’t actually made that prohibition. It’s a threat of action.

Lavender also wants the book. You wonder just how powerful it is that both Remilia and Lavender want to get their hands on it. Are Lavender’s intentions truly so noble? For that matter, are Remilia’s even noble, or is her story about protecting the book just a lie? These questions and many others float in your head.

Putting aside the moral ramifications of the situation, if you accept this contract, you will be forced to take the grimoire from Remilia and bring it to Lavender. However, since you must follow Remilia’s commands as per your current contract, she can easily prohibit you from taking this contract. If that does happen, Lavender will attack you here and now. You could try to convince Remilia to let you accept Lavender’s task, but if that happens, it may lead to a sticky situation down the road once the tome is finally retrieved.

You visibly sigh. It’s been a long time since you’ve dealt with so many contract-happy persons. Usually, when you are summoned to this plane, you make a simple contract with your summoner, complete the task, and move on. Plain and simple. This must be what happens when you spend so much time around powerful magic beings.

> [x] Convince Remilia to let you take on Lavender’s task. Otherwise, you will die.  
>  \- [ ] Stress how important you are to Remilia’s mission. (Appeal to her reasoning)  
>  \- [x] Stress how much you would miss Remi. (Appeal to her emotion)  
>  [ ] Revoke your contractual offer. If Lavender decides to attack, use magic and any other ability necessary to...  
>  \- [ ] ...obtain the information you need.  
>  \- [ ] ...get the hell out of this place.


	32. Tangle

You refuse to beholden to this foul magician. She attacked you, threatened the life of your contractor, and wants to _use you_ to get the grimoire for herself. Her hostility will not go unnoticed. If Lavender wants to mistrust you, you’ll give her a reason to do so; whatever contractual terms she throws at you, you can and _will_ twist and bend until they are in your favour. Powerful magician or not, you’re a goddamn demon. You answer to no one.

Unfortunately, you can’t communicate these thoughts to Remilia in the current moment. If you show further interest in a contract with Lavender, Remilia will, as she warned, prohibit you from accepting it. If she does, you will lose your chance to get the both of you out of this situation as well as get back at Lavender. If she _did_ know you are planning to trick Lavender, it is much more likely that she will agree, but there is no way to tell her without drawing suspicion. Lavender is too distrusting of you; even if you try to communicate through some sort of code, she will very likely find it suspicious and turn you to ash where you stand. You can only convince Remilia with words that will seem innocent to Lavender. Any hints to your true plan would be too risky.

At first, you consider emphasizing the danger of the current situation. Aside from Remilia’s own life being on the line, there is an additional incentive in preserving your connection to this plane. Since you are instrumentally important to her main goal of acquiring her grimoire, it would not do well for her to let you be destroyed. You could stress this point, and try to convince Remilia to agree to your logic. Even Lavender listening in would have no reason to mistrust you.

However, there’s another piece to consider; Remilia’s feelings. She seems to want to give off the impression of “cold and calculating manipulator of fate,” but so far you’ve found her to give in to her emotions fairly quickly. During Caesar’s incursion, she seemed more concerned with drawing out her theatrics, like a cat toying with a mouse, over taking the safer course of action of killing each of you quickly and efficiently. In addition, in the time you've been together, it does seem as though she cares about you, perhaps as a friend; you could tap into this to try to convince her. After all, if you’re her friend and you are to be destroyed should you not contract with Lavender, it is in Remilia’s interest to endorse contractual negotiations.

You decide that the emotional angle would better sway her in this current moment. With this in mind, you turn to Remilia, staring into her eyes. You smile grimly. “You won’t let me make a contract with her?”

“I can’t risk this grimoire falling into the wrong hands. It is too dangerous,” she says, frowning.

“But… I want to live,” you say, placing your hands on her shoulders. “I want to stay with you, Remi! Don’t you care about me?”

“Of course I care, Clara, but what would you have me do?!” she snaps. She pauses, her voice becoming gentler, “I just… I can’t let myself prioritize you. Ultimately you will leave this plane, but the consequences of letting that tome into the wrong hands will be far too great.

You wonder, for a moment, just how dangerous this grimoire really is to provide so much leverage on Remilia’s mind.

“Then… Is that it? It’s over?”

“I’m… I’m sorry...”

You let your arms drop. “I’ll… I’ll miss you.” Then, turning to Lavender, you say, “I accept my destruction.”

“Very well,” says Lavender, raising her staff once again. The sun above her head vibrates and begins to glow brighter.

Remilia hasn’t responded to your imminent end, but her expression says it all. Deeply troubled and tongue-tied, she simply stares at you, mouth open but no words coming out. This is a risky game you’re playing, the thought occurs to you, perhaps a bit late. Nevertheless, it’s on Remilia now. You’ve tugged at her heartstrings; if she chooses to save you, it will ensure that you can make your contract, get the two of you out safely, and trick Lavender to boot.

But her words never come. Lavender’s sun bulges to its previous size, the only sound in the room coming from the magic as it sizzles and pops. The sun is glowing a bright blue rather than the red-orange it was before.

Lavender blasts you with the full might of her magic.

Remilia steps forward, shouting, “Wait!”

By the time you hear it, you’re already gone. You feel like you’re falling through the air, the library a blur of light around you, and then it’s all gone as you are engulfed in darkness.

...

After a few moments, you notice that you’re not dead; you’ve died before, and it’s never felt like this. You’re laying on cold metal with your bare skin. Your clothes, your crutch, and your equipment are all gone, but your body feels no different from it did a few moments ago. You’re still in your vessel. You’re still in Clara’s body. The missing leg is still missing and you can still feel your soft hair brushing against your shoulders. You can’t see anything, you hear nothing but your own breathing, and you have no idea where you are, but you’re alive. Somehow.

You then notice, with a slight prickly sensation, that the enchantment on your leg that was preventing it from healing is gone. You can already feel the bones and muscles regrowing, sending a new jolt of pain through your body, but it quickly subsides as fresh skin spreads over the forming mass. You stretch the regrown leg. Glad to be back on two feet again, you rise, groping around in the dark. You determine a few minutes later that you are trapped in a metal room that is around twenty by twenty feet in size. There is no furniture or adornments of any kind in the room.

This has to be some sort of chamber that belongs to Lavender. She did not destroy you, but teleported you here instead. For some reason. Does she want to talk contracts, or is there an ulterior motive? Unless, somehow, you’re here because of someone else entirely. You’ve attracted the attention of plenty of powerful magical beings lately -- you wouldn’t be surprised if yet another one joined the list.

As you examine the walls of the room with your hands, deep in thought, your fingers slide over a thin crack in the wall. It’s very small -- only a hand’s length and just wide enough to fit your fingers into it. It’s a foot off the ground. You fiddle with it for a bit, and a piece of the wall breaks off. It’s a crude, misshapen thing, no larger than a butter knife, but it could function as a weapon in a pinch. It seems to pulse in your hand, as if it is alive. Notably, the floor itself pulses as well.

With nothing else in the room to examine, you slump against the wall, holding the “knife” behind your back, and wait. You wait for what you estimate to be an hour, but nothing happens. No one appears, not a sound can be heard aside from those caused by yourself. With no stimulation to keep you engaged and your lingering exhaustion from the past day, you feel your body yearning for sleep. You push on, refusing to sleep in this uncertain situation, and just as you renew your resolve to stay awake, you are blinded by a bright light coming from the opposite wall. You shield your eyes, and after a few moments, your eyes adjust.

The opposite wall, which you had previously deemed to be metal during your exploration of the room, has been replaced by lightly tinted glass. Beyond the glass is a simple room with two chairs, a table, a bookshelf, and a stone-faced Lavender Knowledge staring directly at you. She stands close to the glass, watching you carefully. A large crystal floats in the room beyond, casting warm orange light over her and into the room you are trapped in. With sight finally returning to you, you notice that the floor and walls are all made up of a black iridescent metallic material.

“Greetings, demon. I formally welcome you to my containment chamber,” she says. She knocks on the glass. “This is magically reinforced. You cannot escape.”

You rise to your feet slowly, your exhaustion working against you. “Where’s Remilia?”

“She is alive and healthy. I have led her out of my library.”

“Does she know I’m here?”

Lavender shakes her head. “Such knowledge would surely motivate her to retrieve you… so, no. She believes you were annihilated in that moment.”

“I see.”

“I brought you here so you and I may further discuss a contract. I noticed that you were unable to convince Miss Scarlet to agree with you, so I elected to bring you here rather than destroy you outright. If you truly wish to revoke your offer I will resume my previous plan and return you to the plane from whence you came.”

Ah, so that’s what this is. She sees you as a valuable asset at this point. She’s willing to use you, but she isn’t willing to let you move about on your own terms. It’s a double-standard for sure, but not one you can do anything about. She is set in her worldviews on your kind. It would seem this is the perfect chance to make that contract and trick her.

Or…

Your fingers curl tighter around the makeshift knife in your hand. If this is a piece of magically enchanted wall, it may work against the chamber’s own glass barrier. If that is the case, you could use the weapon to break out and attack her -- or flee. You might not get the chance to trick her if you do so, but at least you’ll have one less contract to worry about, and you won’t have to risk further encounters with this vile magician.

> [ ] Escape.  
>  \- [ ] Injure Lavender on the way out to slow her down.  
>  \- [ ] Let’s not make enemies. Get out as soon as possible.  
>  [x] Make a contract.


	33. A Scholar's Contract

 

 

 

> Under the diabolic laws outlined in the ancient treaty between demonkind and beings of the material plane, I submit a diabolic contract between you, a member of demonkind, and myself, a denizen of the material plane.
> 
> **Definitions:**
> 
> “I”,  “me”, “my”, “mine”, “myself”, and “Lavender Knowledge” refer to the material contractor.
> 
> “You”, “yours”, and “yourself” refer to the demon contractor.
> 
> “The Library” refers to The Great Magic Library, a temporal-spatial pocket realm that connects to several cities throughout the European continent and is under the care of the Knowledge family.
> 
> “Grimoire” refer to an ancient tome containing forbidden diabolic magic that was originally scribed by the last free demon.
> 
> **Task:**
> 
> Deliver the grimoire to Lavender Knowledge. This task will be considered complete when the grimoire has been placed in my hands and I have verbally confirmed to you of my own volition that the grimoire given is indeed the one I seek.
> 
> **Terms:**
> 
>   1. If the grimoire has been damaged, defaced, replaced, or otherwise modified by you or another party for the purposes of circumventing all or part of this contract, with or without my knowledge, then the task will not be considered completed, even should the requirements of the task be satisfied. Further, you will be required to inform me of such modifications regardless of the intentions of the party that had caused them, and assist me in undoing them. If undoing such modifications is not possible, you have committed a **contractual failure**.
> 

>   1. You are forbidden from inflicting, either directly or by suggesting or influencing a third party to inflict, any physical, emotional, or psychological harm upon myself or the Library without my command to do so.
> 

>   1. If a person intends or attempts to inflict physical, emotional, or psychological harm upon myself or this Library, you are required to persuade or forcefully prevent them from doing so. In the event that persuading or preventing the aforementioned person would definitively and without a doubt cause your own destruction, you must instead inform me of such intents or attempts to inflict harm.
> 

>   1. You are forbidden from speaking, spelling, or otherwise communicating to any being my name, the Library’s name, the location of its entrances, or the contents of this contract without my command to do so.
> 

>   1. If I issue a command to you, you are required to follow my command.
>   2. You have one year to complete the task given to you. If you do not complete the task exactly one year from acceptance of the contract, you have committed a **contractual failure**.
> 


~ ~ ~

It's written neatly in ink on a sheet of parchment, which floats next to the glass that separates you and Lavender. By now she has moved to one of the chairs in the corner of the other room, but she watches you carefully as you read. Like before, when Remilia explained how you two came to be allies, Lavender is watching you as if you are a dangerous animal that could attack at any moment.

Rightly so. For a few moments you stew in your frustration toward her, pondering the merits of attacking the glass with your makeshift weapon and carving out one of her organs with it. It is but only a fantasy, however; you reason there would be no point in fighting back here. You lack backup and are in an unfamiliar environment where she pulls all of the strings. It's impossible for you to guess at how many safeguards she has set up on this room.

Pushing your violent thoughts away, you focus on the most troubling part of her contract: the use of “contractual failure.” A demon who commits contractual failure will have its soul irreversibly destroyed. It is the closest to true death that a demon can experience. As such, most demons will refuse to bind to contracts that include contractual failure, since they can simply move on to the next contract without repercussion. The rarity of demons who accept contractual failure eventually lead to it falling into obscurity. The later into world history you are summoned into, the less often you encounter contractors or diabolists whom know about contractual failure.

Which is why you doubt Lavender even knows what it means.

“Do you understand what contractual failure entails for me?”

She raises her eyebrows slightly, but as per usual, she forgets to tell the rest of her face to break from its blank stare. “Indeed, I understand it to be an additional incentive for your kind due to its dangerous nature.”

“An additional incentive,” you repeat dryly.

“Well, your soul will be destroyed,” she says matter-of-factly, without a hint of empathy in her tone.

You resist the urge to sigh, already exasperated with your potential contractor. “What if I refuse because of your ‘additional incentive’?”

“You cannot refuse.” You stare at her, trying to get a read on her. Unfortunately, her poker face is extraordinarily unyielding.

“ _Elaborate_?” you say with incredulity after several long seconds of silence.

She leans forward, light frustration creeping into her voice. “You cannot leave this chamber, and as you are currently under contract with others, you are not allowed to kill yourself as outlined in diabolic law. _Thus_ ,” she sits back, her dry tone returning, “you cannot refuse.”

It’s your turn to hold a steadfast poker face, as you ponder her intent. It seems that she plans to keep you in confinement until you can come to an agreement (most likely in her favour). That’s her leverage.

It occurs to you that with such confinement is the promise of extended time to ponder and possibly, escape, should an opportunity present itself. You consider yourself a patient being -- you have to be in this business -- so this may be a worthwhile opportunity. On the other hand, you don’t like to waste time either. There’s no need to prolong the inevitable if you have absolutely no way to escape.

Unlike your contract with Remilia, you have very little bargaining power here. Considering how distrusting Lavender is of you, you won't be able to pull off any terms that are obviously in your benefit. If you do negotiate, you will have to best her by subtle wordplay and redirection.

> [ ] Reason with her terms. (Write in -- lawyer up, Anon!)  
>  [ ] Accept the contract as-is.  
>  [x] Refuse. Not worth it.


	34. Refusal

You ponder your options.

Already, you can see a few holes in her terms that you could easily exploit. The freedoms and limitations that come with any diabolic contract are dictated by your interpretation of particular words. You still have to follow a word’s meaning -- so you can’t just make up any interpretation you like -- but since words have many meanings based on context, as long as the context is unclear, you can “twist” what a term means to suit your needs. That is, in essence, how all loopholes are made in demonic contracts. A truly masterful contractor accounts for all contexts.

Smartly, Lavender defines “the grimoire” as a reference to the specific object she seeks, so you can’t do much with that. Fortunately for you, she is not so thorough with the rest of her vocabulary; for example, in term 4, she restricts you from speaking of the Library’s “entrances”, but not their “exits”. This is likely because the Library’s entrances and exits are one in the same, but since she does not specify that contextually in the contract, it that does not matter. Under the current term’s wording, you could easily tell people about the location of exits as long as you don’t mention they are also entrances. This is but one example. You can spot many others throughout her contract as you scan through it.

A battle of words, for you, is almost always a winning game.

However… the contractual failure clauses give you pause. You’re not in the business of dying for some sickly magician bitch.

The fact that you would have committed contractual failure simply because someone damaged the grimoire places a level of unpredictability into this contract that you are not comfortable with. Her one year time deadline is also risky. Since her task requires her verbal confirmation before it is considered complete, even should you obtain the grimoire relatively quickly, she could hold that need for verbal confirmation over your head for a whole year, or worse, never give it, and subject you to contractual failure by no fault of your own.

You can’t accept the contract with the intent to get out of it later. While death would certainly get you out of all of your contracts, rendering each of them null and void, you can’t commit suicide. Under diabolic rules, you also can’t ask people to kill you or put yourself in a dangerous situation that may result in your death for the purposes of getting out of a contract. Even if you could somehow get yourself killed, death would end your time in this realm. Remilia or Caesar would have no way of summoning you again -- what demon happens to respond to any particular diabolic summoning is up to the luck of the draw.

Ultimately, it’s not worth it, you determine.

“I refuse,” you say, looking into her eyes defiantly.

“You...” she blinks in surprise. “...you refuse.”

“Yes. I’m not risking my eternal soul on your contract. You should have killed me back there.”

She stares at you for a long time, as if you were a jigsaw puzzle she were trying to piece together in her mind. You sit down, giving in to your exhaustion a little. You stare back at her from the ground, trying to get a read on her. She seems utterly lost in thought. Is she genuinely surprised that you would be deterred by her use of contractual failure? Does she think so little of you, that it did not occur to her that you would seek your own self-preservation?

“Are you really so surprised?” you finally ask, annoyed by her staring.

Broken from her trance, Lavender grabs the contract and rolls it up. “Your refusal… was unexpected. I will think on this,” she says, eyes distant. She wanders out of the room, and the room plunges into darkness again.

You lay on your back, utterly spent from the day’s ventures, falling into a deep sleep.

~ ~ ~

You awaken to your body moving on its own.

With the pulsing metallic shard of the wall in hand, your body is carving away at the glass section of the wall. You’re in _almost_ complete darkness; the runes on your hands glow dimly, giving you just enough of a visual to be able to see the damage you’ve made on the glass. There’s a tiny, fist-sized hole in it, and your body is still hacking away at it without input from your mind.

The sound is ear-rattling. Lavender will surely hear this if she’s anywhere near this chamber. You try to stop moving, but your body refuses to listen to you. So, instead, you try to speak.

 _Hey_. No sound emits from your throat, but your body immediately spins around in response, arms pointing the knife into the darkness. Your hands shake nervously at an unknown enemy. “I h-heard you,” your body says. “Show yourself!”

It must be reacting to your attempt at speaking.

 _Keep your voice down_ , you try.

“Who are you?!” it shouts back, voice quivering, body shaking in fear.

Well, it can clearly hear you. With all of this yelling and the racket it was making on the glass wall, you’re surprised Lavender hasn’t already stormed in here. You’re sure that if she sees the damage on the glass wall, she will not hesitate to destroy you (the two of you?). You’ll have to relay the danger before this being gets caught up in its own hysteria.

_If you want to live, speak quietly, please. We are not in a safe place._

You can’t see it, but you feel yourself -- no, your body -- frown.

_Please._

Your body inhales deeply. You can feel your shared heartbeat in your ears. “Al-alright… who are you?” your body asks again, trying to speak quieter this time.

_A friend. You first._

“I’m Clara.”

...

Oh.

Okay.

So, this being that is currently piloting your body -- the vessel known as “Clara” -- _is_ Clara? How is this even possible? When a diabolist beckons you into a vessel, that vessel should not hold any remaining trace of its original soul. Even if Caesar’s summoning was the most poorly executed in the history of the multiverse, there is no way the rite should have worked while Clara was still alive. Unless… this being is not actually Clara? But that still leaves the question of what it is and _how_ it has gotten control of your body.

Interestingly, over the course of the conversation, you have felt the hold this “Clara” has on your body weaken. You’re fairly confident that you can regain control of this vessel if you so desire, but doing so will leave your many questions unanswered. On the other hand, you have a lot on your plate already right now. This being can wait.

> [x] Introduce yourself.  
>  [ ] **Reclaim.** { 100% }


	35. Sharing

You feel yourself on the brink of regaining control. If you just focus, and _will_ your nerves back into submission, you’re sure that you can use your vessel again. It’s as if your soul is floating just beneath the surface of the ocean -- if you reach forward, you’ll break the surface. However, you refrain. You allow yourself to float there. Your curiosity for this being that shares your body steers you. This “Clara” is either an intriguing anomaly or an enemy. In both cases, it seems wise to pick up information about her. To that end, you decide to introduce yourself.

However, you don’t have time to be thorough; if Lavender reenters the adjacent room, she will probably deem you more dangerous than you are worth because of the damage “you” caused to your prison and, with this judgement, she will assuredly destroy you. Thus, you explain to your bodily trespasser in in the briefest of terms:

_I’m a being from another plane that is sharing your body._ You purposefully leave out any mention of demons and diabolism just so you don’t scare her. You don’t know what her opinion of diabolism is -- or if, as a peasant girl, she even _has_ one -- but you don’t have time to talk her through such things should her impressions of your kind be negative.

“Wh-what?” your body -- Clara -- takes a step back.

_Look at your hands. Those runes are what bind me here._

She does. “I know anything about magic… how did you get in my body?”

_That’s a long story, so I’ll explain another time. We have to get out of this place first._

Her heartbeat quickens. She turns back toward the glass, delicately fingering the gap she had made in it. The edges are sharp and jagged. “Where are we?”

_We’re in a containment chamber made by a powerful magician who wants to use my abilities for her own ends._

“Oh,” she says quietly. “This is all... A bit much… And to be honest, I’m not sure how much of it I believe...”

_Well, in any case, you want to escape this chamber, right? We can worry about the details later._

“Right...” she says, voice coated in uncertainty. After a long moment of pondering, she takes the knife and works on the glass again. It’s loud, and you cringe inwardly at the thought of Lavender hearing it. Slowly, the gap widens, until eventually, it’s enough for you to squeeze through. Evidently, Lavender is not near enough to have noticed the sound, which is odd, considering how cautiously she had been treating you so far.

Clara climbs through the glass carefully -- the edges are still very sharp, and she’s not wearing any clothing to protect her skin. Despite her best efforts, she still pricks the skin on her foot. Holding the glow of your runes up to her foot, she examines the cut, which seals itself up almost immediately. She widens her eyes, rubbing her thumb over where the cut was.

,i>That’s one of my abilities.

“That’s amazing,” she whispers. She does not take time to dwell on it, however; in a moment she’s on her feet again, holding her hand out to check her surroundings. The room is unremarkable, only containing a chair, a bookshelf, and the door out.

“Is that magician through here?” 

_I don’t know._

“Will she hurt me?”

_She might. You’ll have to be careful._

She steps towards the door, grabbing the doorknob, and takes a deep breath. 

Then she opens the door. On the other side is a shaft with a ladder leading straight up for several dozen feet. You can’t see the top. Wordlessly, she begins the climb. Carefully, quietly, placing her hands on each rung as if the ladder, too, was made up of sharp glass. 

You ponder taking back your vessel again, but your mind is burdened with questions that stay your hand. If this _is_ the true Clara, did her soul simply stay dormant in your vessel this whole time, or did something call her back to her body? Would she disappear if you reclaimed control? Rather than break the surface, you hold steady, letting yourself sink a little deeper into the ocean of the mind.

At the top of the ladder is a metal trapdoor. She hesitates for a moment. Reaching very slowly for the latch, she turns it, and then pushes up. The trapdoor gives easily, but she only lifts it enough to peek through.

Light floods into the shaft as the interior of the Great Magic Library comes into view. The trapdoor appears to be in an alcove, directly across from which is one of the many bookshelves of the library. A few books fly past. The levitating, stationary blueish-white crystals of light that illuminate the whole library bob lightly when the books pass them, like a fishing bobber reacting to ripples in a pond. There is no sign of life from your vantage point.

Clara waits for a full minute, but the scene does not change, so she climbs out and steps into the “hallway”. The alcove that the trapdoor sits in is inlaid into a bookshelf -- to each side of the opening, and above it, there are books lined up like the rest of the library. Notably, these books are behind a layer of dark glass identical to the one used in the containment chamber beneath your feet.

“Where do I go?”

She glances to her left: fifty feet down is an area of the library that is unlit. You can see bookshelves extend into darkness with no illuminating crystals situated beyond that point. To her right, the labyrinthine library continues on, well-lit and as uniform as every other part of the library you’ve been in. It seems that you have no choice but to wander until you can find a way out, or at least, something that might be useful to you.

[ ] Tell Clara to go down…

\- [ ] ...the well-lit hallway. Move quietly and carefully.

\- [ ] ...the dark hallway. Grab a crystal for light.

[ ] **Reclaim.** { 97% }

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You can vote on this update[in this thread](https://www.thp.moe/others/res/65797.html#67229). No registration is required._


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